it's a funny thing to love someone from afar. because the love takes on a quality of what cannot be known or named. it cannot be defined or settled. it, by definition, lives in a sort of fault-line. cracked and heavily tread upon.
it cannot be touched or felt and it most certainly cannot be talked away.
i know there are others out there who will say, this is not love then.
but it is. if there is anything i know, it is this: it is most certainly--most assuredly love. some very particular version of it.
and i know this because it is my experience.
i don't know that love at first sight exists. i'm inclined to think, no. but i have never experienced it, so how can i say? how can i know?
loving someone from afar is a tricky thing in this age of social media where much as you might want to--much as you might try to escape the reach of information, it's not so easy. and much as you might wish for their happiness--more than anything--there is still a sadness in watching it unfold without you.
i didn't understand that before. didn't know.
i went to a tarot card reader not too far back. and i asked about a guy. and a very particular lie that was told. and she said to me, he doesn't look too often--because he sees that you're happy. and this makes him sad. and i didn't get it then.
how you can want the best for a person? how you can truly wish them nothing but happiness? and how can there be a sadness in that actualization? how can both these things be true? how is it both selfish and not? how it is so achingly human?
you see only the snippets--you see the snippets and you fill in the blanks with your worst fears and unspoken hopes and there are all those damn unanswered, unanswerable question.
they haunt, they do.
and you wonder if this is forever.
and you move on. and you meet someone else. and they do too. and it's so good.
but still.
i guess this is what it is to be human. this is the human story--or mine at least.
and i know it could all change in a moment, in a minute. in the span of ten years, too, but that's mostly too far to think about.
you survive and you hope and they do as well. and you're left wondering if you've already witnessed the end of the story, or if that's still to come.
8.07.2012
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4 comments:
this is the exact way i've been feeling for months. thank you for voicing it.. i can't write about it or him anymore.. i just can't so this has helped.. thank you x
"how you can want the best for a person? how you can truly wish them nothing but happiness? and how can there be a sadness in that actualization? how can both these things be true? how is it both selfish and not? how it is so achingly human?"
That is the perfect way to sum it up. Being in this situation, I can say that I do want him to be happy, but I just hoped it would be with me. And it is sad to let that idea go because with it, a part of me goes, a part I really loved. I question myself sometimes, wondering whether or not I am lying to myself when I say I want him to be happy, but I know I'm not. I really do, more than anything but there's that part of me that cannot deny that I still wish it can work out for us. Can't you want both? Can't you know someone well enough to know what makes them tick and then cling to an idea of what would make them happy, but when that idea fails, still want them to be happy? I don't know if that made any sense, but I know without a doubt that I understand how you are feeling with this post--the sadness, or lack of completeness, that comes from loving someone from afar.
amazing how i don't know the particulars of this story of yours...and yet, i've been there, too.
I love this part: "but still".
Yes you don't want to go back, yes you don't want to change it, yes you want their happiness, yes you are happy...
"but still".
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