Everyone has their obsession; you are mine.

When I was young (or, rather, younger) I spoke boldly.
I fearlessly spoke of things I didn't know. Without fear of repercussion, I invoked the vast abstracts of love, grace and forgiveness. I am unsure if this was out of naivety, hope or passion, but somehow or another, I got to thinking I had the right to sail upon these words, although I had never really left the shoreline of youthful thinking.
Now that I am older, I live boldly.
Having been through fire and scathed, I have realized the necessary reverence of the vocabulary I once used regularly. I do not claim maturity or wisdom, but have been tested and tried in my sincerity to these weighty ideals. I do not tread lightly over grace and love and forgiveness, words now seen as fearful tides.
I believe in love. I believe in grace. The weight of these words have crushed me; left me broken and weak, seemingly defeated, because the meaning of words like these are deeper than I ever realised. I daresay, if I had foreknown the absolute reality of such crushing truths, I probably would have preferred to live, die and be a part of soft lies.
When I was young(er), I believed in the impact of such words, now I am impacted BY such words; wrestled to the floor where I must face the small honesty that in order to define love, one must be destroyed by it. These scars are our medals, and they speak of battles that should have been lost, but were won on more eternal fields than these.