sharks never stop moving. as far as i know, they have only one concern, the next tasty morsel.
theoretically, if it's good love, you only need one tasty morsel. however, one thing is certain: you gotta keep swimming.
i tried gracefully sauntering through the wading pool and even testing the waters with my delicately pedicured toe nails, all in an effort to pace myself. if i'm going to catch myself a bull shark in shallow water, i need to behave. but, do i want to live in the wading pool?
let me be blunt: fuck that. i want a great white.
i want the wide open water of danger and possibility. i want deep water that i can plunge into head first and come up sputtering and grasping for an edge that isn't there. i'm a woman who knows the pay off of a decent sized risk, who is done denying and defying her nature.
life is a verb. love is a verb. when i find the right shark, i'll tap his fin and swim with him. i'm never going to "catch" him. besides, i'm an equal force to be reckoned with who doesn't want to be "caught" either.
just keep swimming and head for the uncharted territory.
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