2-14-15

February 14 2015

TRIGGER WARNING: DARK THEMES OF DEPRESSION & SELF - HATRED / ABUSE

The tricky thing about love is that it's entirely inconsistent. It differs from person to person and it's certainly not perfect. Nor is it an exact science.

    Sometimes love is hard and it doesn't make sense. Sometimes it's hard to tell if it's even there at all. And, sometimes, I'm tempted to abandon it altogether.

    But, love is also rare and I may not find it again. So I hold onto that love, even when it seems hopeless. And there are those hard days - the days when I can't remember if it's love that I clutch tightly in my fist; if love is the thing saving me, keeping me from spiraling into the dark abyss taunting me every time I close my eyes; if love is the unsteady branch my sweaty palms are hanging desperately onto; if it's love supporting my entire being, the sole thing my life depends on; or if maybe it was love who pushed me off the edge in the first place. On those days, I use memories to strengthen my grip.

    So I sit poised, my pen hovering over the paper, the ink barely touching the thin, blue line. It's an old notebook I found in Jonathan's closet, amongst countless law books and exam papers. It's age is evident by the pale yellow stain on the corner of the page and the crease on the cover where it had obviously been bent. But I don't need a nice notebook to pour all my secrets into, so I lay it out in front of me as I contemplate where to begin.

Chewing anxiously on the cap of my pen - a habit Jonathan used to endlessly nag me about - I sort through my oldest memories of Jonathan and I. It takes a bit of time, but eventually I am able select a few highlights. The letters are shaky at first - the product of an unsteady hand, but slowly my writing solidifies as I embrace the early days of our love.

❤️               ❤️               ❤️

2-14-12

I hadn't been looking for love, of course. Although it was Valentine's Day and I was alone, I wasn't out looking for a special someone like the rest of the single women in the world. I was perfectly content to lie in my room studying for an upcoming exam. However, Kendra had other ideas.

            "Come on," she whined, buzzing with energy like a young child on Christmas morning. "It's Valentine's Day!"

            "And?" I questioned.

            "And you can't spend it inside alone, Lana, come on, let's go!"

            "Valentine's Day is for couples, Ken," she scowled at the use of the nickname, "not lonely people like us. Besides, it's much more comfortable in here."

            Shaking her head vehemently, she opened her mouth again to speak. "You are wrong, Lana. Valentine's Day is for people exactly like us," she argued, to which I raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Think about it," she said to me, waving her hands around wildly, "there'll be tonsof lonely people out there looking for love - like us! We're bound to meet someone, maybe even the love of our lives! Who knows? Come on," she begged for the second time, "live a little!"

            I released a deep sigh and closed my textbook. Inhaling deeply, I prepared myself for Kendra's squeals. As expected, moments later she was lunging at me, tackling me and knocking over the chair I had been sitting in. I pushed her off of me and pulled myself up.

            "Oh thank god," she squealed as she got to her feet. "I thought I was going to have to drag you there. Literally."