爱

What else could I write 1200 words on, what else but a word that has no definition and yet, most people agree, exists. What else has filled millions of books and songs and all sorts of media…without ever reaching satisfying conclusion
And where else to write it but in here in this city. Here, where I sit and wait, uninterested in conversation or reality or excitement or air. Here where everything is in flux and nothing is certain. Here about which everything has already been said. Do I believe in it because of a subconscious planted in my brain by movies and poems? It can’t be, simply because I haven’t watched enough or read enough. At least I hadn’t before the first time I made it here. And now, now all I want is to just see my friend.
But in the meantime, I’m supposed to be writing about a concept that I’m scared to even write the name of. What good is that? Okay: I’ll say it. It’s love, which to me encompasses a deep caring and devotion but also a feeling of joy and wonder. To love another person is to see the face of God, by definition.
So it’s all a good thing, right? It’s all fantastic and you can just go around loving everyone.
Except that god damn this is the fucking tritest thing in the world.
Except that there are different kinds and each type can be fucked up if you don’t get it in return.
What the hell does it matter whether you get it back? Unrequited? What the fuck is requited?
It matters – it matters a great deal. Because idealistic as we’d like to be, it’s simply too too painful if we don’t receive recognition and care to recognize and care for someone so deeply. To what extent is the joy o fit all just knowing that you matter to someone? To what extent do you care about the other just to make sure you get something in return? Is it a transaction?
And then there’s 爱情。 Gooood old 爱情. That which pulls people around in circles, makes them silly, makes them hurt so much that its negative incarnation is so powerful as to be addictive.
There’s nothing to say that hasn’t already been said.
Love is eternal. Is that true?
Love is caring
Love is compassion
Love is difficult
Love takes on many forms – different for people serving different roles in one’s life
Seems rather like there’s only room for one supreme lover in one’s mind at a time. One true partner. One #1. One through whose eyes you end up seeing the world. One who truly touches and shifts your point of view.
No, there are plenty of those – but only one that really really matters – second place is usually distant. Too much time, too much care for the second place to be worth anywhere near as much time.
But what can I offer anyone else? Is it worth trying when a positive joyous bliss doesn’t arise in the first few days? Is it worth searching when all you have is an inkling of what you might discover? It is worth it, if you believe people are worth gambling on. I believe they’re by far the most worth gambling on.
It is worth it and leaving things unspoken is often best.
Proving yourself over and over is everything. It’s not just knowing something is there. It’s nothing if you do nothing.
Jealousy and fear create a haze of pain and unease. There is no reason to doubt. If someone cheats, it may be painful, but it is no reason to leave. Why shouldn’t each cheat? Cheat? If you’re ready to leave, that’s one thing. But to get it on with someone else? That seems quite natural.
I’m halfway, and I’ve said nothing.
I’m going to fill a book with this? Clearly the answer is no. Time for slightly more discipline.
I used to think that everything would work out one day and that love would find me and everafter I could devote myself to a girl who would do the same for me, gracefully and effortlessly. And with that premise in mind, I over and over again judged every girl against this standard, wondering whether I could spend my life with her without being scared or worried about anything.
Eventually I recognized that high expectations were leading to pain and fear. The fear of losing something so potentially perfect very much clouded any chances I had at something approaching that. This hasn’t really changed; what’s changed is my recognition of the pathologies.
“Falling in love” is weird because it implies that you’re collapsing into something that you get stuck in. Yet it really does feel that way, in terms of the compulsion to give and care and recognize and engage. So once you recognize that something is possible with someone, you want completely to take it to its limit. You want to give her everything and in turn to get everything. All else is put in its proper context and okay to take lightly. Meaning in everything, though, becomes magnified because of the confidence and beauty and care that you receive.
I will end this here.