As I hunch in this lumpy chair, weary of any work I've gotten done today, and typing
my brains out like some mad scientist, I of all things have the desire to
write about love. Great, I mention the word love and my shoulders instantly tense up.
See! I can't do this...*takes a deep breath*. Okay, hopefully I can explore this physical manifestation before I hyperventilate and realize how
much I despise talking or writing about this topic publicly.
Nevertheless, it’s like this: BE ALL YOU CAN BE TODAY. You know, Carpe Diem and shit – do that until
the wheels fall off because one day you’ll wake up and love will be painfully
staring at you with its fucked up eye. I mean staring you right-smack-dab in the
middle of your face (I say painfully for a lack of a better more horrifying
word.) When I think of love I stress out. I think of agony when I think of love.
I think of worrying. No matter who is in this love with me there is a
guaranteed heavy dose of stress, agony, and worrying. There are these super
highs and super lows. There are these walk on egg shells days. These, "Don’t puke
while I puke but you still puke any way days (oh great now we have to clean up
the freaking puke!)", and there are these wonderful debate days about anything minus
oblivion (okay, no, yup it’s now plus oblivion that was just confirmed.) It
really beats the hell out of me sometimes.
There are these, "I’m this close to
leaving your ass days," and then something really funny happens and I don’t. There
are these, "I’m literally so very tired and so very sick of you days." There are some, "What would I do without you days," (those tend to be my favorite), and some, "I
just want to stick to you like white on rice days." There are even these days where
we agree on the same thing we disagreed on a couple of days back (huh?)
When I think of love I think of fake car chases and running to the Toyota quick
because “they’re out to get us” – whoever “they” are, “Mash the gas! Let’s go
baby! Hurry!” (ahh yes, invisible bad guys – jealous?) Love makes me think of scrounging
for pennies just to make sure we make it to the place we always eat at (when we
clearly don’t have enough money at the time and could easily downgrade or go
somewhere else.) There are these days I dunk my head underneath a tub of hot water
so that my entire body is immersed and I just float there lifeless wondering
what the hell love is.
Yes, love is patient, yes, love is kind, and yes love is
unconditional. I love to love. I get that that’s love. I do. No one ever
mentions the “other side” of it on the other hand. There is definitely another
side. There’s the stress, the agony, and the worry – that tense feeling you know.
As gut wrenching as that sounds it’s there too. Nonetheless, going through
those feelings can be rewarding; nights are warmer, days are more promising,
and the companionship is priceless because the love has gotten a chance to go
through every crevice of your mind and heart; every peak and every valley. You’re
all in this thing and you can feel every tick–tock of it so much so that you’re
affected emotionally, spiritually, and physically.
I’d say love is an
investment; it’s abundant yet expensive. There’s a work ethic to love that I
believe I can only pseudo master because I haven’t a clue how to really get in
there and truly understand or figure it out (maybe there’s nothing to figure
out.) There are some days where silence is appreciated, where certain looks are
understood, and where a good, deep, long, and tight hug is really all the words
you need.
Wisdom is on love’s coattail and that dynamic appreciates with
time. Love is falling in love over and over again. It’s not giving up on each
other that day as to spare you another 24 hours to try and get it right again. I accept everything that comes with love as I mature in love (I say
that now but don’t quote me on that) as long as I (as Stephen King put it), “…keep
talking, arguing, making love, dancing…,” and courageously loving, it will be.
“We came from similar
working-class backgrounds, we both ate meat…Yet what ties us most strongly are
the words, the language, and the work of our lives.” – Stephen King