interregnum

i used to be obsessed with this guy; i dreamt about him for years. even as he hurt me, over and over, vengefully because i had hurt him too, i clung to the idea of him, desperate for his love. i was willing to drop everything for him if only he would ask, if only he wanted me the way i wanted him so completely. the day i gave up on him for good when he told me i was too much for him. i guess i needed that closure, and at least i found it.

the thing is, i found myself loving again. and the next one was better, or so i thought. and then i fell out of love. and then i fell again, for — you won’t believe this — an even better one. because i was growing and i was becoming. and i will keep doing so, with or without them.

granted, with the current one, i think i’ve never felt so instantly sure before. but love has an insidious way of short-circuiting your brain making you blind to your past, your future, and even your present.

i’ve been thinking: i think many of us have a conception of love as a shared object. it is something given, but it has to be received to be complete. but i’m starting to wonder if it’s even simpler. maybe love is something that is merely given. it is not about what we have; it is not what you think about me. it is only about what i have to give you, because i wanted to, not because i wanted something in return.

and so love is not a game of deservedness — it is a game of appreciation. and so we keep going as much as we can. to love again and again, until we find someone who will accept us completely, as we are, as we will be.

t-10.

we are going to cross paths with many, many people in our lifetime. we cannot hold on to all of them, much as we want to. letting go of people and the longing for more with them is an unavoidable fact of being alive that we must reconcile ourselves with eventually. some people, including ourselves from others’ perspective, are meant to only be with us temporarily. that is by design, whether willed by the Creator or the nihilistic cosmos that toys with us.

yet this does not mean you are an interregnum — an intermission or a short distraction from normalcy. you are an experience, a lesson, a force of nature: you are the universe’s manifestation of love. everyone is, even those who hurt us. the only thing we can do is make the best of the present because that’s all we’ll ever have in the end — you imprint their shadow onto your soul so that even when they fade away in time, they’ll always be a part of you. their memory belongs to you now; keep what you like, discard what you don’t.

so when you meet other travellers like yourself who want to stay and grow with you, hold onto them — not enough to lose yourself, but enough so that in the rare chance they want to be bound to you too, both of you will share a bond — a bond that defines what it means to be human.

Tag: interregnum

interregnum, #3 (the lovesick logs)