Friday, August 29, 2014

An Epiphany

That old adage, "love is pain," is one I've readily subscribed to.
I can't say that subscription is unfounded; to love someone is to hand over to that person a box of your deepest insecurities and failures, a playbook of all of your vulnerabilities.

Today, I had an epiphany,
I came to Jesus,
I was (metaphorically) struck by lightning.

I hope you're ready because I'm going to fuck you up with some truth.

I realized recently that where loving someone will assuredly entail some pain, neither your ability to be hurt by someone, nor the extent of agony you endure on that person's behalf, signify the depth of your feelings for them.

Maybe other people don't struggle with this distinction the way that I have. I have, consistently over the course of my romantic history, believed that if someone caused me heartache, they were also the remedy. I thought this was love. And I would walk around wounded, writhing in pain from his indifference, the horrible way he would tear me down and make me feel like shit, the unrequited love he so readily bequeathed upon another.

And maybe I liked it.
Maybe I was so hungry to feel something that even pain would suffice.

But now, at least, I know those times weren't love.
I don't know when it hit me, all I know is it had something to do with meeting him.

Nonchalant in front of an audience

"Do you think things are moving really fast between you two?"

Whenever someone says it, I wonder if we've gone off the deep end without realizing it.

& I tell the truth, "It all feels really organic. We aren't deliberately rushing things."

But I never tell anyone how when I met him, it was like my favorite book of poetry, Cien Sonetos de Amor, came to life. All of these words, of these things I'd hoped to someday feel suddenly gained a personal meaning.

Instead I say, "yeah, he's cool. We're doing great."

I never talk about how we spend all day talking--texting from the moment we wake up until we can be on the phone. Being on the phone until we fall asleep.
I tried once. But the person I was talking to incredulously said, "What do you guys even talk about for that long?"

And I guess that would have been a great opportunity to tell someone, finally, about how we share the same beliefs on God; how we talk for hours about books we've read, movies we've seen; how sometimes we just dream together about the places we'll go, the things we'll do together. It would have been the perfect time to say that he's become my best friend.

But I didn't.

I never tell anyone about my mental catalogue of his beauty marks; or the face he makes just before he tells a joke. I never tell anyone about the way something inside me dances when he smiles at me;
when he kisses the back of my hand;
when I wake up to the sight of him sleeping beside me.

"We are happy," I say.

But it's only a half truth because what we have and what he brings into my life is so much more than happiness.

Someday, I'll be brave enough to be honest.