It's my turn for the crown please

I grieve and dare not show my discontent,
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,
I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate.I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned,
Since from myself another self I turned.

My care is like my shadow in the sun,
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,
Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.
His too familiar care doth make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it be supprest.
Some gentler passion slide into my mind,
For I am soft and made of melting snow;
Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind.
Let me or float or sink, be high or low.
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die and so forget what love ere meant.



You know, once a long time ago I was sure Queen Elizabeth I (author of above poem) was bipolar. Now today (while knowing I am not bipolar or anything other than stressed out), I have a slightly more clearer take on her heart in this.

There are always two sides in love, always a push and a pull, always cold and hot. Sometimes it will never matter which way you step in a situation, action causes reaction and therefore will always do one of the above. I suppose that helps when I think about it like that...when I pull apart all the mystery and confusion that envelops parts of our relationship like a well wrapped gift.

Her bitterness is evident in this, and maybe I carry some of that too. I won't let it consume me though, I just can't see where anything in life has to be all bad and not have even one ounce of good in it. I am deeply in love with my dear, even though I hate him to pieces.

I don't pretend to understand, I can't promise I ever will, but I will try my damndest to do so.