towards the light
It's been a long time. I suppose the reason why is pretty simple: I was happy. The stories didn't need to be written down - they were lived. I never understood how lucky I was until now. (Of course, of course.)
The short version: my obsessive and twisted romantic 'friendship' grew into an unexpectedly gentle and warm love. My first love. Over two years of gentleness and soft light and warmth and dreams of years happy and safe like that. I know, I know it wasn't perfect but it's hard to remember that right now. All I can see is my uncertainty, my fears, my insecurity as shadows, though there must have been other ones, too. I keep thinking, if only I had another chance, I would be so much better, I would live in the moment, I'd make every day count. Is that true? Perhaps. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it still wouldn't work that way.
And the worst thing is that I don't know any specific why. Was it something I did? Was it just a way it happened? Were my fears realised because I kept obsessing over them, or because somewhere deep down I knew? Of course, a why doesn't really matter. It's just that I'm still so tangled, that I'm still so in love, that I just want to find a way to make everything alright. There are moments of sense, of hope, but no rational thought can make me fall out of love. (I feel like nothing will; after all, I'm dramatic, and I've grown up with wounded people, my grandmother still missing her husband who's been dead for over twenty years, my mother's relationships a mystery, far gone, no longer pursued, my father in love with someone else when I was born -- and plenty of fiction.) I've never had my heart broken before, so it feels like the end of the world. I just want to be with her, I just want everything to be okay. But there is little I can do about that.
Instead, there's only one thing I can do: become happy. It won't be easy. I've never been as happy as when I was with her, so the mere idea feels daunting, but the thing is that before we got together, I didn't even know I was capable of loving someone or being loved. I'd told myself it would never happen to me, but it did. But now I need to be happy in a way where my happiness isn't dependent on anyone else. I want to be loved and love, terribly much so, but I can't rely on anyone else to be my happiness. I need to do it myself. And the thing is: the reason for my wanderlust, my restlessness, why I flew across the sea to go to university, all of that, is because there is that part of me that finds joy and happiness in those things, in everything new, trying to find my place in the world. I generally don't plan ahead, and I didn't realise that I'd grown to rely on this love, on those dreams so much. (And the thing is, very often I did not dare to believe them, not really, but I suppose that somewhere deep down I did, after all.) So now I need to start again from the very beginning. Find new dreams, new stories, new light. Become happy.
So how are you? Do you have any advice? What is making you happy?
The short version: my obsessive and twisted romantic 'friendship' grew into an unexpectedly gentle and warm love. My first love. Over two years of gentleness and soft light and warmth and dreams of years happy and safe like that. I know, I know it wasn't perfect but it's hard to remember that right now. All I can see is my uncertainty, my fears, my insecurity as shadows, though there must have been other ones, too. I keep thinking, if only I had another chance, I would be so much better, I would live in the moment, I'd make every day count. Is that true? Perhaps. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it still wouldn't work that way.
And the worst thing is that I don't know any specific why. Was it something I did? Was it just a way it happened? Were my fears realised because I kept obsessing over them, or because somewhere deep down I knew? Of course, a why doesn't really matter. It's just that I'm still so tangled, that I'm still so in love, that I just want to find a way to make everything alright. There are moments of sense, of hope, but no rational thought can make me fall out of love. (I feel like nothing will; after all, I'm dramatic, and I've grown up with wounded people, my grandmother still missing her husband who's been dead for over twenty years, my mother's relationships a mystery, far gone, no longer pursued, my father in love with someone else when I was born -- and plenty of fiction.) I've never had my heart broken before, so it feels like the end of the world. I just want to be with her, I just want everything to be okay. But there is little I can do about that.
Instead, there's only one thing I can do: become happy. It won't be easy. I've never been as happy as when I was with her, so the mere idea feels daunting, but the thing is that before we got together, I didn't even know I was capable of loving someone or being loved. I'd told myself it would never happen to me, but it did. But now I need to be happy in a way where my happiness isn't dependent on anyone else. I want to be loved and love, terribly much so, but I can't rely on anyone else to be my happiness. I need to do it myself. And the thing is: the reason for my wanderlust, my restlessness, why I flew across the sea to go to university, all of that, is because there is that part of me that finds joy and happiness in those things, in everything new, trying to find my place in the world. I generally don't plan ahead, and I didn't realise that I'd grown to rely on this love, on those dreams so much. (And the thing is, very often I did not dare to believe them, not really, but I suppose that somewhere deep down I did, after all.) So now I need to start again from the very beginning. Find new dreams, new stories, new light. Become happy.
So how are you? Do you have any advice? What is making you happy?