This is a story that has happened, oh, about three times in my relatively young life...
Love.
What is it?
I hate when people believe they've fallen utterly in love, and they know what it is completely; there's nothing left to discover. They're full of shit. One is always learning more about this dangerous emotion, more about it's ambiguous nature, and it's sinister residue.
I've learned the hard way, all times.
Every time I've entered into romantic love, I've allowed myself to open my heart. When I open my heart, I often learn more lessons than I receive a reciprocal feeling. This is very convenient for future occasions, but the "come down" is a...well, it's a pain in the ass, to be frank.
The first time I ever fell in love, it was quite a puppy situation.
Sixth grade, with boy we shall call "Anthony".
He was charming.
He left notes in my locker, he held my hand on the playground, and he was the first boy to ever ask me to the movies.
I was completely smitten.
The only problem was- I didn't know what on earth it was to be boyfriend and girlfriend.
Me, in my ignorance, thought we were only friends. I told him that. He was crestfallen and "broke up" with me. I spent the next three years pining for his affection. Didn't work. And though he was polite to me from that day forth, he never felt the same about me.
Such was my first juvenile heartbreak...
The second "love" was perhaps the most destructive relationship I've ever been in.
We shall call him "Dave".
From the moment I saw his electric blue eyes I was head over heels. I dove recklessly into this naive land of romantic dreams, and unrealistic expectations. I was completely oblivious to what would lay ahead.
He was addicted to heroin.
Through him, I tried cocaine.
I was lost in a haze, and he was the still centerpiece of the spinning world.
It's a known truth you don't choose who you fall in love with, and this was no different. If I had it my way, I'd have never set my eyes on him. He was evil, and I was attracted to him because of that. I felt obligated to fix him. I felt like I was sent to protect him, to keep him from killing himself, to sacrifice my sanity to prove to him that I could be strong.
Like a drug, I had to cut him off from my life...
He would have been the death of me.
It was possibly one of the hardest experiences of my life, and I still don't understand to this day...
how i could love someone so horrible to me.
It was then that I realized a truly important notion to understand: "Love never dies; it changes."
For some strange reason, I will always love Dave. But I will never love him in the way I did once...it feels like a warmth in my stomach, that I hold down with a sigh.
I'm in the process of falling away from that ardent love again...
I met someone who I thought was very exciting, very different, very worthwhile...
He turned out to be like the rest, disappointing and weak.
It's hard when you realize that you're the type of person who doesn't give up easily, who fights for what they want, who pulls through the tough times with a lesson in mind...but in this even, one often ends up alone.
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