I Want That Messy, Imperfect, Passionate Love

By

“I know what I want.”

That’s what my Instagram bio says of me. This seemingly pretentious statement is something I consider to be one of the biggest achievements of my life – yet. It is one of the strengths I fought to conquer, which now I am not ashamed to accept in entirety. I know exactly what I seek – in career, in life, in self – and in love.

For me, mediocre love is not an option. I need to feel it in every bone & every nerve of my body. Love that makes you combust into flames and float along the waves – both at the same time. Love, that is passionate, messy, imperfect. Where two souls unravel into each other, their darkness mingling into one ; their sins embraced with sinful arms & yet, their hearts held gently, as the most precious drops of the sky.

Perfect, shiny, spotless love is not for me either. I want my insanity embraced with as much excitement and readiness as I intend to ignite to breathe-in their darkness. I don’t want to be ‘fixed’ nor do I want to be ‘completed’ – same as I do not offer being a ‘lost & found’ part of them.

I wish to see our broken, jagged pieces meshing together – not fitting perfectly, yet almost there. Our edges creating fires that are too calm to be deadly yet too much to ignore.

Comfort and understanding can be found in places you never expect them to be. They will be found in love, too. But a love that consumes you, that doesn’t try to change you and yet ends up altering the strongest forces in your world – tilting it’s axis just enough, that you know, your world shifted, and everything remained same! I believe such love exists – and I believe, such love is worth hoping for.

I want it to be messy, imperfect, passionate and real. I expect it to drown me in it – so that I am surrounded entirely- submerged, without losing my power to breathe.

Many women want a prince or a knight-in-shining-armour to come and complete their perfect love story. I hope for a mere mortal, strong enough to be vulnerable with me. I hope for a love that stays by me while we figure out this puzzle called life, and lets me hold its hand all the while, in sickness or in health. In darkness, in madness, in hell.

All or nothing.