I do not want the harbor the feeling that love is going to fill me up, save me, or solidify my lines. I do not want to harbor the feeling or belief that love is powerful beyond all other things, and that even when everything else is grey, love will rain millions of tine little rainbow pieces into your lap and shower you with a rainbow of color. I do not want to rely on love to make me feel the way I know I long to feel or to give me the optimism and security I so desire. I do not want to feel the need to glide my fingers lovingly through one's hair, down one's spine, or gently across a persons lips. I do not want to ache for white sheets, and tangled legs matching tangled arms and the steady, familiar, and warm breath of another person against my cheek as the radiator hums and no words need to be said. I do not want to step foot in the doorway of the truly open, vast, white light, knowing I have to, or maybe already have, cut myself open. Utterly exposed, vulnerable, spilling all my liquid. I do not want this.