“The closer I got to people, the more alone I felt, and their faces would say more about me than I could of myself. Maybe that’s why I felt so empty sometimes. I left pieces of me in places that would fill me, and in the end, I lost myself in everything I loved.” – R.M. Drake
I have lost a few people over the years. Friends, lovers. Sometimes, both- together, in one person.
I remember some, in parts, like in the whiff of air that brings to me the scent of a familiar cologne or the sense of humor I acquired without even knowing what tickled me in the first place. Others, I remember whole, because nobody forgets magic.
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I think upon them and our life together- and wonder what went wrong. Time? Love? Fate? I do not know. All I know is that I would have given anything for love, in that moment.
Today, I know I’d have done anything for love, in that moment ONLY.
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That’s the thing about love. When love leaves, you are scared and shattered, like a deserted traveler on the edge of the ocean. You stand on the shore, looking at the foggy clouds of the future and find your face there. As the weakening winds continue to lash against you, the roaring waves paint his face up on the high horizon too, and you see a smile, his smile, frozen, unmoving. Cold.
Suggested read: Why none of us need the forever love…
In time, you try to wash it out with your tears.
When love leaves, you suddenly find the theatre empty. No musicians, actors or props- not even an audience- remain. You try to replay your love story in memory, hoping to gain a plot in remembrance, but find your lips and hands giving up. And just like that, a deafening background score rises in your mind, drowning the voice that might have something to say about lost love. Your lost love.
In time, you grow thankful for the noise.
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When love leaves, you cling to the memories, entering the room of your past, with one deep breath upon the entrance and none until you are outside again, hand poised on the doorknob. Afraid you may inhale everything you’d lived earlier, you stand breathless on the door, blood pulsing through your veins, like an ocean at high tide, thumping and crashing against your ears, like the lure of some lunar pull.
In time, you continue to stand on the door, keys in tow.
Maybe that’s really the thing about love. You fall in love, in people, filling them with you- until you are completely empty. And then, you walk into the raging storm, up the vacant stage, into that dark room- and bring your heart back!
Featured image source: Pixabay, under Creative Commons License
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