I am always under construction.

I have the inclination to apologize for my drunk heart.  Not to my love for he is intoxicated as well.  The flowing love is out there for the world I know to see, and I'm not hiding it.  I can't help but feel suffocated for others.  What's that say?  I suppose I've felt claustrophobic with happiness not belonging to me.  Sad realization.  If I were the me just some weeks back I might have not believed in magic.  I might have been skeptical, but still "liked" the post because they appear happy, and I do wish I add to it.  Doubt surely would convince me, quietly, that it wouldn't really last because love like that isn't real.  Though, as it turns out, magic has made itself present.

I know love when I see it and it's all over me.  All this time, and those chances that have been given out in hopes something might spark, and my instinct has been right all along.  Instinct is shouting at me now.  I hear it belting love ballads with our names and stories of all to come.  I feel as if I'm home.

So, my perspective has shifted.  I am forever growing, and for the first time I feel it's okay.  Growing is living.  I am always under construction.