Fill It Wisely, Fill It With Love Stories

by David King on February 14, 2013

David (1987) Do we all want the same things?

I’m 31 years old, and I’m not sure of everything I want.

But I am sure of some things…

I want adventure. When I was young, I wanted to be a paleontologist, an astronomer, and a zoologist all in the span of five or six years. My nights were spent dreaming of space, and my days were spent sketching dinosaurs and building sewers out of cardboard for my Ninja Turtle action figures. Today, adventure is dreamed up a little differently, as something closer to seeing the world. Ideally, I would save it, if such an adventure were possible.

I want stability. The most stable time in my life was when my parents were together and I never knew of loss. I remember feeling this extreme sense of sadness and grief over the mere thought of losing my closest family members – my inherited allies on this adventure called life. When I was 21, my grandpa died. My parents had already divorced. My brother no longer lived with me. My grandma was alone, in nearly every sense of the word. We all need a little stability in the chaos, and in the adventure, should we ever find it.

I want to feel, deeply. I want to know true happiness, and I want to know the pain that reminds us of what that happiness looks like. I want to be shown all the sides of life, all that this world has to offer, so that I may know myself better. I want to know the depths of my consciousness, and of my soul, should such a thing ever be known. There is much sadness in the world, but it is not to be avoided.

I want to write, and I want my stories to be read. I want my thoughts to be heard, my actions to be noticed, and I want others to find beauty where there was once only suffering and pain. I want to show them. I want to show you.

I want love, real love, the kind that grips you from the start and never lets you go. I want to wake in the morning smiling and spend my days dreaming of the one who knows me, and gets me, in ways that no one else ever could. I want to fall asleep in that same grip, legs interlocked with adventure and arms held stable. I want a love that can give me both. I want a love that fills the emptiness.

One day, when I was six years old, my first puppy died tragically at the hands of a teeter totter. When I was 14, my aunt committed suicide in her garage, unable to handle the realities of her adulthood. And one day, when I was 28, I had to grow up all over again. We are all broken, shattered by the daylight; shattered by time. We all know of emptiness.

Do we all want the same things? Indeed, I think we do.

So fill the emptiness wisely. Fill it not with bright lights and cheap tricks; not with anger or hatred or despair. Fill it wisely! Fill it with music and art and friends and books and words – and stick to those words as much as possible, except when you find yourself lost, or broken. Fill it not with loneliness and regret. Fill it with kindness and laughter and love. Fill it with love stories – small ones, and big ones, and love stories in between if you must.

Whatever you do, fill it with at least one love story.

Whatever you do, fill the emptiness with love.

I’m 31 years old, and I’m not sure of everything I want. But I am sure of some things.

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