Saturday - 12/07/2014
I have often gone back and forth on the idea of love, and whether or not it is just that, an idea formed in your mind, a mental choice, more than an involuntary emotion. When given the chance, I stressed that I’d never fallen in love, affirming that I was not like all those other fools desperate to label themselves victims of love so their teenage lives could sound more poetic. I was quite adamant in my belief that love for me would not come easy, because love itself would not so easily blossom. I could not yet describe love in simpler words, but was convinced that no words could explain it if it were in fact true. Love could have synonyms but no definitions. It was the enigma for me that I, despite never attaining it, was confident I would recognize if and when it hit me, since certainly it would feel like nothing I had ever experienced.
Moreover, my belief was that love would strike you once and only once, being what they call “true”. The more I gathered my assumptions of love, the more I realized the odds were against me and against numerous people actually. Love does not fall into just anyone’s lap; it requires the meeting and joining of two compatible beings, no matter the form of chemistry and attraction…in the midst of millions of people. I would call that a scarcity.
I was wrong after all. To this day, I cannot figure out why it is I fell in love when I did. Did I finally decide to let love encompass me? Or did the stars magically align for us in that time? The universe is a mysterious thing, where I sometimes feel we are its mere puppets. It finally allowed me to do that of the deepest vulnerability. Looking at the past now, maybe fear was all that held me back. Accordingly, that would mean I could have fallen plenty of times beforehand, but my mind felt it unwise. However, loving you made sense. You’d loved me for over two years, how much safer could my heart be in your hands than in anyone else’s? It was safe, secure, and right. Wrong. Though I allowed myself to feel a pain I had never before felt, I finally had my own answer for the mysteries of love.
As an initial hopeless romantic, I was finally rid of my secret endless search for love. I had not realized how tiresome it was throughout all those years. By loving you, like I had never allowed myself to love anyone else before, and then losing you, I could finally rest. I am no longer covertly desperate to find it, because however short-lived it may have been, I had become aware of how much love my heart could carry, and give. It started as an impulse I was etching to act upon, a “choice” and then it became an onward drop from there on that I could not control, the actual “falling in love”.
Falling out of love was new too. It is unlike getting over a regular infatuation. Instead, I sort of bury the ME that loved, along with all the memories. Then I start from scratch, except a part of me has been tucked away and I am no longer whole. Each time I love, a part of me will be completely infected and irreversibly tainted with love, so that when it has ended, I must live with it like an incurable disease.
My new assumptions are this: You needn’t be the “one” for me to fall in love with you. Conceivably that is why we do not often wind up with our first love. If I have found a “soul mate” in a platonic friendship, I can find it in any other love in the future. I no longer conclude that there is just a single individual to whom you must belong. I believe in luck and circumstance, and of course fate. Some are fated to meet one of many with whom they click, others aren’t so fortunate. Ultimately, the one you end up spending the rest of your life with is your “one”.
Additionally, I believe loving again can help soothe the old afflictions. Having felt it once, while no longer searching, I am no longer scared. When you have scraped your knee once, it is no longer something you fear reoccurring. On the contrary, I can now wait idly by for my next big romance with steady knees and a welcoming heart.