Tuesday, November 09, 2010

cliched love.

I was talking to an old friend (*that may be the undertitlement of the century but in due anonymity, I'm sticking with it*) whom I hadn't actually talked to (you know, like below the surface) in 3+ years a couple of weeks ago. It was an intriguingly awkward conversation with a once very acquainted now total stranger, trying to find a middle ground again.
He asked me if I had changed at all (since we were friends) + my mind initially surveyed the superficial obvious(es). I grew out my hair. I contribute bi-weekly to a pension plan. I still can't cook. I still have an ironic white-girl obsession with rap music. I still think frugal is such an ugly word. I still possess a very evident "I see a cute baby!!" face. I still am petrified of driving in the rain. I'm still addicted to coffee. In my wandering mind, I haven't changed a bit...
 Having no idea how to answer such a loaded question, I answered with something frivolous along the lines of "I started a career + must have grown up a little along the way." Unsure of what he was thinking of that defined me, he replied "Ya, but do you still believe in love? That's its blind + it conquers all + all its other cliches?"
It's funny because I have asked myself that same question repeatedly the last couple of months + pretty much had given up on finding the answer. Do I believe in (the power of) love? I once thought it was all you need but as I perpetually got lost further + further down a one-way street of unrequitedness, I'm beginning to think sometimes love just isn't enough.
If you love someone to the fullest, must you really let them go? ...But they take such a huge part of you with them, how do you fill the void if they don't come back? When will you know that they're not coming back?
I thought love was patient; I have obviously lost mine.
I thought love was kind; why does each day bring about so many feelings of pain?
I know it's impossible to love + be wise but I spent most of my summer trying to acquire the smallest inkling as to why my heart + my head were in two entirely different places... an internal civil war... battling my ever-present struggle of loving to the fullest without compromising myself...
As much as it hurts sometimes, I most certainly still believe in love + undoubtedly, the part of me that probably has remained the truest over the years is my desire to love + be loved. A hopeless romantic at heart, sometimes I'm blinded by the disillusionment that maybe fairytales could exist. Maybe not in the form of white horses and shining armour but definitely with perfect-fitting shoes + happily ever afters. Just maybe...
But it's time to remove my heart from my sleeve + put it in safekeeping while it mends...
Because as much as I prefer my love to contain an enormous dose of reckless abandon, I've forgotten somewhere that my greatest love of all should be for myself first + sometimes a little more selfish + a little less selfless is okay. That's where I will find the most happiness--within. Love heals all and I'm starting the healing process by outloving this bright, happy-go-lucky, yellow-striped sweater. Just doing up the buttons makes me bubbly... and it's about damn time.

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