Begin Again.

I’m so very confused.

I have written before about what love is. How it is all of the wonderful, yet small – seemingly – insignificant moments in one’s life that they grow to treasure over time. The moments between lovers, friends, family members, & sometimes even strangers. Well, the older I find myself getting, the less I’m learning I know about this highly sought after phenomenon. Being that it is what everybody on the planet spends a lifetime searching for, you’d think we would have some great understanding of what it is exactly. But we don’t. We don’t have the slightest idea.

For a while, after I got the teenage trials and tribulations out of my system, I thought I had found it. Cracked the indecipherable code. To me, it was simple. It was opening up and attaching yourself physically and emotionally to your very best friend. It was waking up next to this person who somehow inhabited all of your dreams. A man with the perfect, rewarding career. The bluest eyes. The funniest jokes. The ability to make you giggle over the silliest inside things. But then, unexpectedly, without warning, that ended.

And I thought no. That couldn’t have been love. Love wouldn’t just stop like that. Love wouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t shatter me. Love must be something out there that helps me, that heals me. A person, maybe? And once again I was sure I had found it.

Once again it was inside of another human being. A boy. It was there in all of the things he embodied that made me feel whole again. The way he made me feel like I was the most important person on the planet. The 4 hour drives he made at midnight after an 8 or 9 hour day just to see me for the weekend. The unexpected flowers & chocolate strawberries he would get me. The steamy nights & snuggled mornings. The way he fit into my family just right. But then, you see, that too fizzled out. The jokes still made me laugh, but his presence (or maybe it was mine) didn’t uphold the shiny standard society has given us regarding love. And that too, ended. Was ripped from my grasp, despite how tightly I tried to keep a grip on it.

And now, as I sit here again without love (the marry-me-and-keep-me-forever kind, anyway) I wonder again what it is. What it will be. What will I find next that will convince me it’s real & has a tangible definition again. Is it different for all people, between all people? Is it something recreated everyday so that it’s impossible to confine to one definition? I don’t know.

What I do know is that I honestly believe when one door closes, another opens. This must be true because life is always changing. Always moving forward. A constant evolution. And it makes me wonder when will I find my next open door; when will I stumble across that one person who will be there throughout each and every inevitable phase? It couldn’t be already, could it?

What I’m really trying to figure out is what in the hell is going on in my life. Everything has fallen to pieces around me within the past 7 days. Literally less than 72 hours ago, I wasn’t sure that I would be able to go on. And now, here I am, completely smitten with this human being who has no idea he inhabits my brain the way he does. This person that I have been connected to, on some level in the recesses of my mind, since the moment I met him. Since I pretended it was normal to feel that flutter around him because he was unfamiliar and kind. Since he made me not hate the adventure I had been dreading for weeks. Since I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

And I -plain & simply- don’t understand what’s going on. I feel like a hypocrite on one hand, a psycho on the other, and completely happy on a third hand I don’t even have. I cannot juggle all of the emotions I’m feeling in the time they’re arriving. I can’t sort them out or make sense of them. I can hardly even believe that they are real. Half of the time I feel like I’m asleep. But I’m not, because I’m at work. I feel like the past 10 days have been a legitimate whirlwind. An emotional rollercoaster. I went from “how is this happening to me?” to “this couldn’t have happened at a better time” in the span of 3 days. Three!

Getting back to the matter at hand, love — Lust. Companionship. Happiness. Whatever it is that we, as human beings, as irrational 25 year old women — seek, I think I’ve come to a realization. Maybe I’ve been putting too much emphasis on trying to fit this “love” I hope to find into the package society has led me to believe it must fit into. This convenient, effortless, lengthy, developed relationship between two people who are absolutely infatuated with each other. & Know everything about one other. And maybe that is wrong.

Maybe what we are all searching for, what I have been hopelessly tracking down for years, can appear in the blink of an eye, with somebody you barely know who legitimately lives on the other side of the Nation. Maybe it starts out as this simple, yet confusing, story that turns itself into a Fairytale over time. Ed Sheeran seems to think people could fall in love with the touch of a hand; and who’s to say we couldn’t?

I’m trying to make sense of something completely foreign to me, yet totally amazing. & I’m rambling because I’m afraid I’ll be crushed if I lose it, when I don’t even have it yet. Because it’s 6:18PM and instead of feeling broken or bruised, I’m listening to mushy music smiling coyly at my telephone screen in my tired ass cubicle. Because I’m 25, all too recently single, but still somehow incredibly hopeful. I’m rambling because I’m me, and thats what I do. It’s what I do to try to make sense out of everything. It’s what I do to make myself happy. And it’s what I do to help myself stay sane.

But nothing worth saying ever ends in a rambling mess. The important things always have a punch line. A lesson. Some sort of captivating theory. And you are mine. You’re my lesson. The proof that doors will open again. It’s in the way your subtle messages and mean jokes pull me out of bed in the morning. The way you smile sideways, with only 3/4 of your mouth when you’re trying not to enjoy the phone. The way your words sound funny because you weren’t raised here. The way you thoroughly enjoy my company but would never admit to it without continued prodding. All 6 feet 3 inches of you. You’re the package that ties all of this nonsense together.

Truth be told, I don’t know what you’ll come to mean to me because I honestly don’t even know who you are right now. But I know that despite every studded hurdle I’ve faced this week, you’ve managed to keep a smile on my face and a flutter in my chest. And if that’s not what people are searching for, maybe that’s our biggest problem. I can only hope to be as quintessential to somebody’s life as you have been to mine thus far.

And if I can find all of this in you, this way, it makes me believe in the amazing things people find in one another, again.

Thank you.



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