Illusion About Love
There’s a problem with this idea of love that I’ve been fed all of these years. The problem is this: I have been taught to think that love is the sudden rush of emotion, this incredible feeling of simply wanting to fall into somebody’s arms. The notion of labelling the various stages of a relationship sickens me. It’s like, after two months you have to be at this place in your relationship. I find myself constantly looking for signs of what to do next. I’m expecting the flowers and the rooftop poetry and the looking into each other’s eyes and just knowing bullshit. I understand what’s been missing, all along. What makes all the breaking up so messy, and what makes life after a relationship almost excruciating and ecstatic all at the same time.
There’s no place for the growth of a good friendship, a good companionship even. Because there’s the neutral phase when you feel nothing for someone, and then there’s the looking-across-the-room and then there’s the awkward silence that drives people crazy. But maybe that’s just how I see it ending. Doesn’t it happen like this – that the day after someone breaks up with you they pretend that the weeks, the months and years of knowing you just don’t exist anymore? And that the way you deal with it is to write them into a fictional story and somehow find interesting ways to kill them off? Because that’s what I’ve been doing all of these years. All of the people I love have slowly drifted away from me, sometimes pretending that none of what we had ever existed in the first place. And to be honest, I’m tired of the lonely gut-ripping feeling that I get when someone I love leaves me.
So I’m resolving to be a friend to someone above all else. I want to stand with someone through the drunken nights and through all of the sorrows that they’ll face. Because in the end, that love, the nuanced gradual touch that goes beyond physicality, that’s the love that will last anything. That’s the love that I need to foster in me, and it’s the love that will accept me as who I am. With all of my imperfections. It’s the kind of love that I don’t need to search for, or change myself to attain. It’s the simple, nourishing love that will wash over me, one that seeps through every pore on my body, till I am fully immersed in it.
Original post: http://skylerwang.com/post/49677369063/illusion-about-love-theres-a-problem-with-this
By: Skyler Wang
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