Love Me, Love Me Not

So I was thinking, if God is love a la the Holy Bible and other religious texts, and love is the law of the Universe a la The Secret, then we are basically swimming internally and externally in a love membrane. A cytoplasm of sorts. I think for some reason I've accidentally become stuck in the vacuole. And I'm probably not the only one.

Vacuoles are important. They're the clear blobs within the cell and I've always thought of them as points of clarity. They juxtapose all the other squiggly mechanisms that exist within the cell. The interesting thing about the vacuoles is they store both food and waste. Food the cell needs to survive. And waste that the cell needs to expell.

Are you following me?

I'm stuck in the vacuole because it has all the food and water I need to survive. But it also has waste that can poison me. If I were to somehow step out of the vacuole into the cytoplasm, the cell would naturally feed me because I am part of that cell. I don't need to be in the vacuole with the waste to be fed. By being in the cytoplasm I can move around in a more natural state. The homeostasis of love within and around me would flow naturally, uninhibited by toxins.

I need to get out of the vacuole. I need to have enough courage that the natural state of love that I was born with and that exists spiritually inside of me will naturally draw all the food I could ever need. Food which I can actually grow from. Food that feeds my soul instead of poisoning it.

So I poke around the clear membrane, stepping over the corpses of relationships past. Waste that was disguised as food because I was floating in the wrong part of my Universe. I pause for a second and look at some of my former favourite binge foods: the guy with the flowers, the guy with the insatiable need to party, the guy with the intriguing conversations, the guy who adored me a bit too much. All of them corpses floating around in this vacuole -- never able to offer the nutrients that I need to thrive and flourish.

The wall is thick. I press my hands against it in hopes that the pressure I apply will create a tear that I can squeeze through to the other side. To my true environment. It's daunting really - stepping over all these waste products while trying to poke through an impervious wall. Not to mention how hungry I am. It's been a while since I've eaten anything in here because I know that the poison is more harmful than the food it is disguised in.

I push the thoughts of hunger (now starvation) to the side. The excitement of eating real food is what fuels me now. I can't wait to flip around in the cytoplasm of my natural Universe. My arms are weak from pushing and my legs exhausted from the endless dance around the waste of my former choices. But I keep on pushing against the wall because I know that despite how much the fatigue sets in or the hunger weakens, I do not belong here. And I also know that if I push against the wall long enough I will find a weakness.

There's blisters on my hands and cramps in my legs but none of that matters. I'm hungry for the real food. The food I was born to eat. The food that will flow within and through me. The food that can only come from the homeostasis of pure love.