Sometimes, it’s a little scary to think about this love thing.
Sometimes, it’s a little scary to think about this love thing, isn’t it? It opens up a can of worms, brings back memories you think you’ve forgotten, reminds you that for all the hardness you wear on the outside, you’re still all pink, and soft, and a little sore on the inside.
Yes, it’s definitely a little scary to think about this love thing.
A recent conversation:
“This love thing, it really isn’t that complicated, is it? You find someone who can add to your life, someone who drives you to be better, not just for yourself, but for your other. You win some when you’re in this love thing, you lose some when you’re in this love thing, but when you lose, you lose it so that the bigger-than-you bit, the us bit, wins. It really isn’t that complicated, is it?”
No, it isn’t. Yes, it is.
You brush shoulders with people you could do this love thing with throughout your life.
Sometimes, the person is right beside you, but something happens, or something doesn’t happen, and you continue on your way, a little happier, a little sadder.
Sometimes, the person is your first, your first heart-opening, your first heart-breaking, and you carry this person around in the underside of your tongue, the name that is never said; he’s the habits you recognize, like how tea has to be the perfect shade of red, or jeans have to be folded twice over, never more, never less. Everything has changed; you aren’t the person who got into this love thing years ago, and he isn’t the person who got into this love thing years ago, but the love thing remains, as the first love thing, as the thing that never saw the light of day, the thing that still continues to illuminate.
Sometimes, the person is so utterly far away from you, states away, but everything else is perfect – the conversations, the thoughts, the words you find for each other, the words you don’t have to say. But even then, this love thing isn’t enough because there are bills to pay, and dreams to run after, and the problem of finding a common land space for you to meet. You part, but you don’t really; there is always that email waiting to be read, or the message that was sent three days ago, or that Facebook Like that sets your heart racing.
You move on, but not really, you’re still a little bit in this love thing with that person, but you’re you and, he’s him, and life is a little separate for the both of you.
Or sometimes, this love thing becomes bigger than all of it put together, the states, the first love things, the dreams, the bills, the egos, the miseries, the burdens you carry, the blemishes and the scars you wear, and that’s that.
All of it still exists, the hardships, the distance, the memories, the worries, but this love thing pulses a little stronger, and today becomes a little easier to deal with.
It also gets a whole lot scarier when you think about it.
So, you don’t think. You do this love thing, sometimes on your own, sometimes with your love, and you work on it from one today to next. The hardness on the outside gets a little softer, the soreness on the inside gets a little less painful.
And so, it goes on, this love thing.