Dare to Love

I cleaned out my computer files today, and I found a picture of me and an ex-boyfriend. That beaming smile, that confident eyes, that certainty that he was the one, that for once my life will be alright. I was so pretty. Even prettier than when I was with my ex-husband, and back then I thought he was the one too.

Just like my marriage, it didn't work out.

Why do we love, anyway? Nothing lasts forever. Human is too finicky for our own good. Mind changes faster than politicians taking sides. That, or us blinding ourselves of the truth, only seeing what we want to see and refuse to accept the whole package. Either way, disappointment is bound to happen.

When that one moment arrives, it is that special feeling as if everything falls right into place and for a brief moment you can see the whole completed jigsaw, or you'd like to think so. You are Disney's Cinderella, transfixed to your Prince(ss) Charming, quietly and dazedly mumbled: "So this is love… So this is what makes life divine..." Nothing, nothing can go wrong.

At least for a minute or two. Then the world starts to go crashing down, or stagnation crept in. Then it's like a bad series of franchise movies, where it gets worse and boring with every new production but you don't have the heart to stop watching it because you are already committed to it.

And when it is all over, you sat there and weep. You walk around acting like nothing happened, other than how the world seemed so dead to you. You flinched every time someone smiled at you, or when they showed the slightest interest in you. Not again. Not so soon, anyway. That last one was special, therefore it shouldn't be forgotten that soon, right?

Yet even after that, your heart will give way again. And then you'll be in love again. You'll forget how awful it will make you feel, or the amount of hard work you have to put to make it work. It doesn't matter. The fun right now is what matter. You are going to be drunk on love, and it feels so damn good. Come what may, you'll be careful anyway. Or so you say.

Then the morning comes, along with regrets and 'hangovers'. And you swore never, never again. You closed your eyes and heart. No more, you promised yourself. Until the next person arrived, and you fell in love yet again.

Was it worth it? I don't know. For me it was. I make a name by writing about romance and such, which almost all stemmed from my own romantic escapades. For some, it wasn't. They'll guard their heart carefully and even rejecting the notion of happiness, devoid of all emotions. It's akin to choosing to eat minimally spiced food to protect yourself from adverse health risk, as opposed to getting all crazy with explosive spices and exotic herbs. Nothing wrong with either.

I live for those moments. I live for those tender touch and hungry eyes, for the nervous smiles and warm embraces. I live for love. Whose love, I cannot tell, as I observe my locked soul. The fires that burn outside has nothing on the icy cold soul inside. 'The one' might never arrive, and honestly, I kinda hope he won't arrive. I am good with where I am right now.

The fear of love debilitates me, the same love that gave me wings. "You'll heal," they say, "you'll love again." Maybe. Not really counting on it, but maybe. When the time is right. When the grief has ebbed. When the heart is strong again. When I finally dare to love again. For now, I am my own friend, my own companion, my own lover. Honestly, it's been great so far 😉 .