In the beginning the possibilities seem endless. From that first moment of realization the promise of everything, made by the power of love itself, is intoxicating. We try to fight it, pretend it isn't happening, remind ourselves that it's too soon to be thinking such things yet, we do anyway. We begin to see houses, romantic vacations and retirement itinerary. Forever seems tantalizingly close at hand and nothing, short of death itself, can shake us from the heavens.
We call this the Honeymoon period. It is those first few months of bliss with a new partner when the whole thing is going so well, you cannot imagine it ever going wrong. Then, something happens or in some cases, a string of something’s happen, the sum of which becomes the catalyst. At this point, we begin the process of making excuses for these irritants, in an effort to not have to admit that we may have been a bit hasty on that forever jazz. Perhaps these things that seem so large are not so big at all, we think. We convince ourselves that they are not worth all the fuss and toss them aside.
Sometimes, we are able to move beyond the discomfort and into a contented situation where the combination of love, trust and respect mends all wounds. Other times, we find ourselves staring down the barrel of a future that will eventually kill us. We don’t always act. There are certainly things one can do to aim that shot elsewhere at least for a while. However, the death sentence can seldom be avoided. People in love are especially talented in the art of postponing the inevitable in hopes of finding some way to avoid it altogether.
I remember as a child, reading those awful fairy tales. I was intuitive enough to understand that happily ever after wasn't descriptive enough to be legitimate. I would inquire what the phrase meant. How was it possible that they were just happy forever forward? I received different answers each time I asked. This lead me to believe that no one knew what "happily ever after' meant. Besides, I didn't know a single man, woman or child that was happy all the time.
As I grew up, I lost touch with that same intuition I'd called upon as a child and began to seek out my own fairy tale romance. I chased the idealogical happily ever after with a vengeance. Though the logical sphere of my brain kept me well reminded of the fallacy and the unlikelihood of finding that which I was seeking, my emotional self craved it’s existence too much to give it up.
Ten years have passed since I that began. I am much older, wiser and equally alone. It is not that I do not want the stability and companionship of a partner. Nor have I become so cynical I cannot understand the mind-boggling, knee-weakening exhilaration of finding ‘the one’. I, like most, long for a relationship that's real, lasting and somehow satisfying. To sum it up realistically, metaphor aside, I just do not seem to know where to look or how hard to try anymore.
I live my life in shades of gray and brown and silver; the colors of days gone by. I survive every day as I tolerated the one before with only inconsequential differences. I go to the same places and see the same miserable people, just as jaded as myself, sitting on bar stools drinking cheap beer to forget that they're sitting alone. I think to myself, "that's going to be me". However, I can't fathom stumbling upon yet another beautiful train-wreck wanting everything I haven't got which promises to end tragically.
Those I've tried to love have burnt me in ways I cannot even begin to describe and haven't the foggiest idea how to overcome because it's like a broken record endlessly on repeat. Over and over again I hear the same assurances of 'never again' and 'I love you' but the speaker hasn't the slightest notion what that means because it constantly happens again. I cannot understand the difference between mistake and cruelty because I've heard the most malicious lies bent as truth but described as mistakes that can be undone...but there are some "mistakes" that are more than a human could possibly mend.
Into this, I've become numb and with it, I live my own nightmare. Walking around trapped inside a heart that can no longer feel out-loud and it only takes once to feel like it's over and here I go again. Frigid cement floor and I'm lying in a pool of my own blood. I've grown to hate love as though it were a cancer instead of a goal and I hate those who have made me feel so alone.
Love blisters everything.
