Not in the way that love is pain, but in the way that I feel love more powerfully than any other emotion. At times it overwhelms me. It confuses me. It makes me question and wonder and (yes oh yes) fret.
I do not like worry. I try to ignore her when she knocks, but she is a persistent sort of midnight guest, and often (when I am tired and vulnerable) I let her rest her head on my pillow.
"Hello again. Do you remember me?"
Yes, of course. It's as if you never left.
But to worry is to love I suppose. To care so much that you want another to be safe. To be happy. To be comforted on a night when your arms aren't long enough to reach. To protect what often cannot be protected.
So I worry. So I love.
So I weap when it's all just too much.
(Thankful to have unpacked my typers.)