Love. What a substantial emotion; something that could fill up my hollowness up so nicely. Love, it has a sea of connotations, it has meanings I can describe and others that can't be explained if not experienced. However, it is safe to say: love is memories. It is starry nights and slow music and the smell of daisies. It is long walks on the beach and getting to know each other at 3 AM. It is moments that contain so much power yet so much impotence. It means so much more.
Love is also vulnerability. It is when you allow yourself to love someone so vigorously and so rawly that you also allow yourself to be fragile. People say that the people that love you look past your mistakes. What people don't comprehend is that looking past you isn't loving you, looking past you is denying the broken pieces of you. True love isn't like that, true love is when you feel so low and your heart aches, and you don't want to fight anymore. Then, someone looks at you. They look and they see all your ugliness in its unrestrained form, they look hard and they try to understand. They look, then they love. It is when someone loves you with your flaws and not despite them when you know you are truly being loved. It is that and so much more.
Love, it is the most beautiful form of pain. It is carving your heart out and putting it in a glass jar. It is wrapping it and putting a bow on it, and then giving it to the person you love. The person you want to love you back. What you don't know when you give your heart away is that if it's not to the right person, your heart is nothing but a jar of blood. It's disgusting and it's slimy, and it beats too. But oh if it's the one, then that jar means a universe, it means a life, it means you. It means so much more.
What do I know? You might ask. You might wonder who am I to tell you about the emotion that the greatest poets failed to define. Well, I'm a person that thinks she experienced love and lost it. I got divorced a month ago and yes, it hurts. It pains me so much that I can't begin to tell you how it feels; so, I'm telling you how it felt before. It's so wonderfully weird how a couple of months ago, the only thing keeping me up was love, and now it's what is holding me down. How gloriously lovely is that? How ironic is it that the things in the apartment that used to remind me of our bond, now remind me of my heartbreak? Quite a rough month it is, though. It took a toll on my emotions since my whole being reformed into a soul I can no longer completely apprehend. It's the hurt. It changes you in ways you won't ever be fine with.
All I've been doing lately is eating and grieving. I also wonder about him. I wonder if he's going to work or if he's eating well. I do wonder about him all the time. Not like the apartment gives me a chance not to. The first thing one notices when coming in is a huge picture we printed of ourselves from our wedding day. Every time I feel the pain become overwhelming I head to that picture of us. I know it's the not the way to get over someone but I wasn't planning on it anyways.
Our wedding day though. The sunshine and the trees and flowers. The tulle so soft in my hands and the veil so sparkly. The weather so perfect for a day out. Sunny, but not hot. Cloudy, but not gloomy. The smell of daises that diffused in the park so proportionally. Our friends that celebrated our love like it was a miracle, which it was. It was the most breathtakingly magnificent day of my life. It was all of that because of the love I had for him. Where was he? There he was, at the end of the aisle. My last stop, my forever, the light at the end of my dark tunnel, and now he's gone and everything is black again.
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A little too little ✔️
Romance"My last stop, my forever, the light at the end of my dark tunnel, and now he's gone and everything is black again."
