this week I discovered something
by mashing together the sources of my hate and the sources of my love. I found that these are both the causes of presence.
When I was young I fell deeply in love with a friend of mine. Deeply in love because I believed he would be there for all time. Before him I fell in love the same way with another friend of mine and still think of her as I do him.
when you’re young you think that things can travel off into the distance and come back in the same way without any scars, the same. These thoughts are just as pure as our imagination at that time, we don’t doubt them because we are learning what they are. We capture them and keep them forever, because we find the iconic and everlasting.
So I believe what I felt was love, but it was stupid love. I don’t know why this week I have come to this conclusion, I find it very striking.
Moving on from this is hard, it’s like letting go of your cherished dog or most prized possession, that is exactly how I have kept this as a treasure of mine. There is so much more to life than this holding on of things, as someone who limits the amount of stuff they have I should have seen this as another thing to go a long time ago.
I have loved, I have served to memory’s fondest moments, and it was sweet but I need something real that catapults me ahead rather than behind