My Symphony: Walk In the Park by Beach House
Taken from my personal journal, dated Sept. 4th, 2012
I’ve always believed that I am someone who is capable of love, and I probably always will. Even as a child, my mother told me I already had so much affection and sincerity in my eyes. But I think that after the things I’ve been through as a teenager, my view on love has changed as much as I have changed. You know, I used to think love was easy, that it entailed all of the bright, marvelous things and everything else which is peachy (e.g. bunnies, butterflies, flowers, chocolates, heart figures and jellybeans… or whatever). But apparently, just when I thought I had love figured out, reality bitch slaps me across the face and leaves me wondering if I’ve ever really come to know, understand and feel love on the first place.
I’m not going to deny it – I am a sucker for love. Since I was fourteen, I had always been in relationships. Non-stop. As soon as one ended, I immediately got involved in another one, and it was all a never-ending cycle of what I believed were lasting relationships.
It doesn’t mean that it has been easy. It wasn’t easy. A lot of things about my past relationships were hard (or maybe difficult is the right word to use… or maybe at this point it doesn’t really matter). So yeah. Things were hard. It was hard that they all started and ended, it was hard that I had to move on literally thirteen times, and it was hard having to bear with the momentary feeling of being unworthy of a real relationship. But the hardest part, I think, was the series of nights and days when I was just spacing out, wondering if I would ever feel that feeling again — that feeling of being looked after, of being valued, of being thought about; the feeling that someone actually genuinely wants to get to know you, to be there for you no matter what.
Over the past six years of my life, I had my own share of grief, joy, laughter, sorrow, pain, pleasure and wonder all because of love. Love, love, love.
It hasn’t left my mind at all. The idea of it, the concept of it. It hasn’t left my mind since I kissed my first love in that old hotel room one fateful night in November of 2007. I still remember every detail – how dark the room was, how soft and tender his lips were, how fast my heart was racing, how the bed itself was so messy, how new and unfamiliar the moment was and how all of it, at the moment, screamed “forever!”
I have loved and lost so many times in my life. And quite frankly, I am surprised that I am still able to feel love now. I have grown amazed at how the human heart operates. I’ve put my heart through a hard labor, and yes it is already beaten up, worn out and exhausted, but I find, in all of my heart’s exhaustion, that no matter how hard I try to put up walls and pretend that I am a selfish, cold, bitter, self-indulgent cunt, at the end of the day, I know who I really am – I know that I will not survive alone.
So yeah, I have already established that love, indeed, may just be the central theme of my life. I have established that it can be weird, crazy and sometimes ridiculously hard to fathom. But now I ask myself: what is love?
Right now I’m wishing that time was infinite so I could write on and on in an attempt to discover and rediscover the bittersweet realities and surrealities that love brings to my mind. I know that I can never put a final period on a writing about such an abstract and incredibly peculiar concept.
Four months ago, I had my first encounter with a human being at a soul level. This is probably the deepest and truest connection I have ever been able to generate with another person. And I didn’t see this coming. I didn’t plan this. And I sure as hell didn’t want this. This is the first “relationship” I’ve been in where I legitimately do not know what the fuck I’m doing or what on earth is actually going on. Every time he and I talk, and laugh, and exchange moments of absolute trust, friendship and connection, every time I look into his eyes, I just instantly forget about everything I knew about love. I forget that I was ever in love before. Because every time we are together I feel like an infant, a newborn, a kid… just learning his first steps and his ABC’s.
I cannot ever fully understand whatever it is that I am going through right now. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I feel completely vulnerable. And I just simply do not know where to go from that. I just don’t know. At all. No idea.
Blank. Void. Hollow.