my take on love, a story:
i suffer from the classic disease of being in love with love. it is a warm blanket of daydreams that is always draped over my shoulders, shielding me from the sharp edges of the world. but it is also a dark cloud of doubt and worry that makes me feel too much and ache too deeply for things that cannot be. i catch myself in many simple moments of this life, in idle interactions and accidental touches, being plagued by the question of “am i falling in love?”
and each time, the answer has been no. no, it is not love. not here, not yet.
at times, i get into black moods and curse the world at having dangled the notion of love so cajolingly in front of my curious eyes, yet making me wait so long to truly experience it.
but today, i realized that i have fallen in love. in fact, i have fallen in love many, many times, with wondrous, beautiful things. my first and greatest love was with words. but there have been others, too. there has been the carefree movement of dance, the first snowfall of every year, the last waning suns of bright summers gone by that were fleeting and perfect and right. i have loved songs that have brought tears to my eyes and artworks and stories and poems by people who possess minds infinitely greater than mine. it’s just that i have yet to tumble into love with something that has a beating heart and soft flesh. but one day i believe i will.
and knowing this, knowing that i have known miraculous things, and that there is so much more to come, i am at peace. and to all of you, wherever you are, i hope that you find a way to this peace, too.