The Perception of Love
Whoever said that it is better to have loved and lost than to have not loved at all, obviously never loved.
“Love” is a word. “Love” is overused. Overexposed. It has become repetitious and mundane. The meaning of the word as it is spoken has been eroded into nothingness. Pleonasm has become commonplace, and no one realizes that this word, as so many others, has become nothing more than dust on a shelf. It is weightless.
I have loved. I only thought I had until I met one person who forever changed my view of love and all that surrounds its whittled meaning. I dream of regaining the naivety that I once had. It is frustrating, to say the least, when I want to express this sentiment and cannot find another word outside of “love.” Frustrating, indeed. How can one define such a hackneyed expression? It is certainly not facile.
Yes, I have loved. And I have been loved. I have felt it, known it, breathed it, seen it, tasted it. There is nothing more pure, more exhilarating, more satisfying, more euphoric, or more complete that the way the mind, body, and soul come together at once and send you soaring into utopia.
I have also lost that love. Did I ever really have it? Likely not, as it was as the cliché says… too good to be true.
There are too many things in this world that are not meant to be, but seemingly are there only for temptation and torment. Provoke you, taunt you, captivate you. Then, when and if you are fortunate enough to experience the wonderment that is your desire, and sometimes even your need, the Fates will snatch it back without a moment’s notice. Don’t you hear the cackling? It is for their wicked amusement.
But for the cruel twists of Fate that intertwine my life, I could be unspeakably happy throughout eternity. The Fates have other plans for me. Too many instances in my life show potential bliss just beyond the reach of my fingertips. I cannot grasp it. I can only see that it exists, and be plagued with the fact that I can never obtain it. Alas, I must settle, for there is no love, no passion, unconditional devotion, no true ardor for anyone.
Blessed are those that are naïve and believe what they have is love, for they do not have the knowledge to veritably know that what they have is a farce of something that itself is a fable.
Damned are those of us who have sampled the forbidden, the unknown to so many. Damned are those of us who have been allowed to savor the sapid morsels of what doesn’t really exist, only to have every fiber of our being burned with the realization that this which is so wondrous, so perfect, can and will never be.
It is better to not know love…. at all.