We think we know what love feels like but we don’t know what love is.
I know what desire and longing are, how they entwine together around your neck. I know what it feels like to miss someone but sometimes it feels the same as missing a piece of furniture you got used to falling into after a long day at work. Best of all, I know what heartbreak is, especially heartbreak brought on by self-destruction and the ever-hanging feeling of grey matter telling me I am not good enough.
I have many men in the pages of my journals and while I think of some of them fondly, being fond is not the same as love. My thinking is black and white and this is challenging when trying to define and assess what is and isn’t love. One minute it is and it might kill you if you can’t have it. Then one minute it isn’t and never was. [Insert reasons why you were being an idiot. Blame yourself for being “soft and naive.”]
And if it isn’t sticking then it wasn’t love, right? I have no idea.
I try to define love in the “now.” It is comfort and stability but I am chaos. It is hard for me to love stability when chaos is what I want and what raised me.
Trying to love in the great “NOW” though can me up too.