Monday, October 19, 2015

Matters of the foolish heart

"Love was just like communism: it was a great idea but never quite worked out."
-Conrad Valmont, The Longest Week

My inner 13yo self, angst-ridden and driven by pessimism battles the inner whimsical romantic who half believes she'll grow old with someone and be as cute as the couple holding hands and smiling in the hospital room the other day, giggling like two silly lovebirds.... Okay, I'm actually smiling just thinking about them and the years they must have spent together, the life they built around one another, a beautiful thing indeed in my fantastical overactive imagination *sigh*

As I have witnessed through experience and vicariously through friends, those wondrously soaring feelings, unstable and unpredictable can swiftly kick us in the teeth, back down to where we belong - slightly bruised and achy, and sometimes the worst for wear.

It's always interesting what one is willing to do in order to catch, and hold onto, the attention of a crush/someone we like/a significant other, the various types merely lumped together as it can be quite comparable, however different in degree for the lengths to which one will go to show how much they care - and because someone wants to put forth the effort.

It's easy to lie in my cozy double-bed alone, hogging all of the covers to myself, to denounce love and its potential, but in truth, I'm quite at odds at this strange notion. I see beautiful couples grow old together, listen to stories of family friends who have been together since WWII, observe the love on FB of those of our generation looking to break the mold of this gen's tendency to break and buy new rather than mend, and the biggest shit-grin spreads across my now-aching smiling chubby cheeks.

I feel it's more of a battle of trying to rationalize feelings which simply cannot be rationalized...there are specific attributes we may like about someone, but there's a spark that makes us {going back to middle school now} like like someone, and not just like them as we may like someone with a similar sense of style or character or eyes which light up the room or muscles with just the right mixture of strength and lithe...merdé.

There is hope and I hope....for others. Sure, I'm going to listen to those gut-wrenching, sickly sweet love songs and get puppy eyes, wait up all night just for the chance to talk on the phone after a long day, but as far as longevity, of this I'm sure: if I do end up alone, as likely to occur, I'll be okay.

The irony: the heart and brain are seemingly opposites {not opponents}, yet it is the brain creating these fuzzy-warm feelings. Why do you hide behind the guise of the heart, brain?

Like/love is not a bad thing, but one which can be torturous...but that's why there is chocolate and stuffed hippos to cry on and wonderful girl friends to Snapchat when a guy or girl is being a butthead.

Be happy, be merry, fall in love....and have a healthy supply of chocolate waiting atop a stack of books in which to dive at the first sign there is need of retreat, but also be willing to let down your long hair, Rapunzel, to let someone climb the metaphorical tower wall of the prison in which you've encased yourself...

....and jumpers*: invest in jumpers so you can keep yourself warm when that male heater isn't around. 


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