A Few Thoughts on Love

A Few Thoughts on Love

Take a gander at my folly and laugh at my pain. You might find solace in this haunting loneliness that you're either exempted from, or one you share. A camaraderie, of sorts, in knowing that you and I are perhaps one and the same.

I leaped into adulthood with a sense of peace around death and its indications for what life has to offer. I'm not happy about death at all, but her existence is indifferent to my qualms. Why would she care? Death is inevitable. The one truth accepted by all men, whether reasonable or unreasonable. Sane or insane. There's no respite. There's no escape. It can't be denied.

That death is certain calms me, in a way. Existence is only temporary. I had long made peace with life's transience, its impermanence and the consequential dullness that it seemed to ingrain in me. We are here in this life, afterall, only in transition. A span so miniscule it dwarfs in comparison to even the smallest slice of time, let alone eternity.

In knowing that, then, in every emotional peak or pit I had found a tempered balance. A tranquility steeped in caution. Life was as vibrant as the color gray and as intoxicating as water. I liked that. As calm as stillwater. As serene as a dream. An endless expanse of vast dullness bereft of meaning.

I was wandering about. Meandering from place to place with no origin or destination. No beginning or end. I'd figure things out on the way. Bit by bit. Step by step. I'd play it by ear. I was grateful for what I received and content, regardless of whether the days were sunny or sunless, clear or clouded, murky or menacing. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to be. Nothing to find. Only to be found. By death, one day.

And then, I met her. This uneventful life suddenly became a horror movie. Where I'd previously found solace and comfort now lay a more frightening proposition. Each passing moment rolling on to the next. Seconds into days into years. Weird that a second would last forever and yet weeks could fade in a heartbeat. Every tick on the clock wistful. Each fleeting moment haunting. A perpetual source of fear and foreboding.

Love. In it, I was educated overnight, and not much by choice. Wanting someone. Needing them. Not simply as a means of sustenance but as nourishment for the soul, and fuel for the heart, its engines humming for once and its pulse echoing into my bones. Loss, now, is imbibed with meaning and a persistent melancholy. Desire makes sense. Sadness and emptiness have a dimension to them, even texture. A depth I can't seem to reach the end of.

That's new.

I'm also alive now in a way I've never been.

That's scary.

What was effortless once is now impossible. I can't fathom living in a universe that doesn't have her in it. I've never met anyone or anything I was this frightened to lose or this petrified to gain. I've stood witness as she lit up the world, which until this point only seemed like a figure of speech. Things people say.

She's magic and she's warmth. The chicken soup for my heart. A warm blanket in the thick of winter. An idyllic reverie. The weight of a cosmic force beating me into submission. My stoic defiance submitting to the this feeling that I can neither escape nor contain. To be in love is a privilige and burden all the same. Am I its master or slave, I can't tell the difference. I'm as free as a cloud in the heavens and as anchored as a shipwreck on the ocean floor.

She's a delightful treat and a grotesque torment in one instance and the remainder of this universe pales in comparison to the light of her existence. Every thought of her leaves in its wake the heftiest of smiles. I'm overjoyed in her presence. Almost weightless. Unfettered.

For better or worse, this is how it is. I'll do what I can to live with it. It's an anguish I'd never wish on my worst enemy, and yet I gift I can't relinquish either. I'll let this torment haunt me for now.

Why not? It's only a small price to pay.