The love in your roots.

Love is the main subject in here. Will I ever be in love again? Can I not have the answer yet to it? I just see no future. Sometimes I miss it, sometimes all I want is my own self to rest with. You see, most of the times I was in love alone. or there was no return aware of the feelings or the other one did not know any of it. I guess I came to this plain to discover how to love myself whole and only then, put this love on another. To learn and teach. To stretch the members and neurones before doing another thing stupid. To progress carefully. Like a spy. Like a vision from another floor, another ceiling, another life. Feelings did not come to screw us all. We just do not know how to deal. It is a whole new world when we are born. And the vision is chosen for us or we have the liberty, or the struggle, to create our own. The past is a huge part of us. We can not deny it. As love.
But what is the real point of it? to increase levels of hormones in our bodies, soften our karmas, distraction or just fantasies we create to feel better with ourselves? Or everything together?
Emotion does not fit me very well. I get maniac, I go out of myself. I do not know how to handle. Or I ignore at once, or there is something that evolves and forces thoughts, shivers and tears come out from where I never thought it would. It is triggered. Since I was younger, distrust, violence and riot is where I live in. I just started to understand, from a critical view, when I took the emotional out of the way and looked through, deeper, gathering meanings and roots by analysing each word and action there are to come. I wish I could have realised that earlier. Like this, I would not hurt anyone without the real intention. I would have calculated the ones I trusted and the ones I wish I had never met. I would have known how to love and be loved. and care, miss, penetrate the soul through the eyes of another. Maybe there will be a name for the restless in me. Maybe I am just going mad, traumatized but going forward. Afraid, but looking in the eyes.
Maybe I want to be in love again. And be loved in return. Although, not getting too close. It feels sufocating somehow. The disruption gets into the head, then walks beneath the skin and the water presents in my blood begins to run out of my eyes. It is biological. and it is rational. I learned late. I was not born in a structured house. I am not a prodigy. I still live under ceiling and walls of thirty centimetres. I am a fruit from a tree which is falling apart each year that passes. And this is not even near to the end of me. This is a phase. As bigger it might be. I claim for my liberty, I crave for calm. Storms will pass, waters will stay under the bridge. Until the wind of the season whispers again. A test or a trick, know you will learn something out of it. Everyone needs to learn. Some do, some do not. Some evolute, some come back to the same pages in a different scenery. I will love again. The time has not yet come.