A Trip To The Dark Side Of Love

Love changes. With time, love changes. That is why it’s never wrong to write about it. Because anything written can be true in someone’s reality.
At 35, it’s annoying to discover that love is nothing I’ve prepared for, nothing I’ve learned, but everything else. The stuff between the lines. The unexpected, the uncomfortable, the ultimately annoying.

So here are some dark things that love is.

Love is the fight.

You know, the arguments, the I-told-you-so-s, the I-need-to-get-out-of-here-s, the I-can’t-do-this-anymore-s, it is the moment when you feel like you are suffocating because you cannot possibly bear another discussion, another word, the feeling you want to run away, far far away from there. Yeah, like running has ever been the answer. But then love is also the crying during a slow recovery, the first smile, the first held hand, the you-know-I-love-you-s, the we’re-gonna-get-through-it-s, the you-didn’t-think-it’s-gonna-be-easy-s. And then slowly, very slowly, you find your way back to each other, you regroup.

So maybe love is a permanent game of putting things in perspective and then losing it all over again.

Love is the fear.

It’s not the first time I mention this. Maybe there is some truth to it because I also heard it from other mouths. When you love you start to fear loss. It’s selfish, of course. You don’t want to lose something that is yours, something that has made your life more beautiful and senseful.
But the more I think about it, I am not sure if it’s only that. It might be that what I’m about to write is even worse than selfish, it’s arrogant and narcissistic but here it comes. When I think of losing him, I don’t think I will cry for me. I will cry for the goodness our love brought to the world. For love in itself is good. And in my particular case, love keeps me from going to dark places in my head. It keeps me sane so I can keep others sane in return. And I am sure it’s the same with anyone.

Any shattered love is one less chance for this world to be better.

Love is the absence.

Just because someone is not there-there it doesn’t mean their love or the love for them is gone, unfelt. They just slide in the back, on the way to ‘forgotten’ but never truly there.
A wise man once said that the wheel is not just a round thing with spokes and a center but all the space between the pieces. In the same way, the loved one is not just a person but also the veil of absence he leaves behind. Sometimes a scent, sometimes a color, sometimes the way you see yourself in the mirror, one way or another you know he is there. And it might hurt for a while. But little by little you learn what to do with that pain — put it on a shelf, turn it into something beautiful or just smile, nod and move along, like when meeting an old friend you don’t need to exchange words with because everything has been said already.

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