There is no uncertainty...

I'm in love.

God, I've said that so many times, but I swear it's real this time around.  I've said it, but I've never felt it before.  I've thought it, but I never understood it like I understand this.  There was always chaos in the love I said and the love I thought, and thus I concluded that love must be chaos.  But this time?  It's simple, or it feels that way.  All the entities that breathe through my consciousness are swimming in one direction, towards this emotion, nothing else.  Everything is amplified.  I feel like I could be dying and being brought back to life every time I blink.  Every word she speaks is clear and reverberates through my ears, pouring into the confines of my being and filling me past the brim with dreams that can't be imagined, colours that can't be seen, with things I and no other person on this planet could have ever witnessed beforehand.  She provides the ink to the quill that causes my pen to dance so violently across every page I write, every word and phrase and sentence I slur in a whisper between breaths and then write down.  It sounds crazy, I sound crazy and it's been driving me crazy since it started.  I guess anything can make a person crazy when they're feeling it this much.  I want to scream out the music of my affection to her and let her hear those conflicting major and minor progressions tuning in and out of time signatures and keys, those melodies that play without notes and know no bounds of what pitch to cling to and what rhythm to shape themselves around, those glistening cymbals and crackling beats of the snare, pulsing with the tempo of my heart, which has broken many times before in the shallow vanity of loveless affections I've felt in the past, and comes back together again and falls to pieces whenever tiny fractions of ideas come into my head that maybe this isn't really what I'm feeling or maybe she doesn't feel the same way... these thoughts are my nightmares, those tiny horrors that plague this feeling: a dream.  But that isn't what this feeling is.  No, it's much deeper than that.  It's a vision parallel to reality that doesn't bind itself to the typical hopelessness, the lack of conviction I'm fixed to, that regularly distorts my mentality.  It's clear, and plain and simple and perfect.  No, no... it's anything but plain.  It's remarkable, amazing, fantastic, beautiful... nowhere is it ordinary in the slightest.  And so is she.  I wish I could tell her, I wish I could shed a light on this perfection and she would realise how dazzling and incredible she is.  But she outshines the sun, and this light would do nothing but flicker and die as quickly as it became.  I'd say I want to lay her down and sing to her with the voice of rainstorms tapping against windows, morning birds calling through the burning auburn horizon... but those don't conjure true beauty.  True beauty is the mystifying weight of the colour in her gaze as it mirrors mine and brings out the reflection of all it sees, but a million times more spectacular.  True beauty is held within her voice, a gem that shimmers with a passion unmatchable by any other.  True beauty is within her and everything around her, trapped in her aura, as am I.  There is no uncertainty...

I'm in love.