I acknowledge my smallness, my inabilities, all the things I'm lacking, perhaps too much, to a fault. We are all just small obscure puzzle pieces waiting to be placed, to fill in a gap meant solely for us, to fill a space so perfectly and come to rest there as a part of something bigger and more beautiful; a full picture.
When things are as they are and we're constantly cleaning up the messes of others does there come a point in love when we stop keeping score? When everything blends and runs deeply intertwined, when we would no longer even consider sharing because we'd never known our lonesome selves, our singular selves. Do we ever reach a point of blindness by true love, where there are no more tallies and we can't call anymore to mind the fights of the past? Is it necessarily bad for us if we do?
