The Game
In the age of man eaters versus lover girls, here's how my take on love at 20-years-old has held up seven years later.
February, 2017
My mind is not restless but also not drowsy. I'm in a sort of limbo, which is the worst place to be when you have to wake up in three hours.
The concept of love and even more specifically the concept of young love is what has been crowding my thoughts. People will vouch for young love and at the same time tear it down. Yes, I understand that when you are young you are susceptible to more mistakes. I am capable of comprehending that while young the future is dispensable and seems light years away.
I'm okay with the possibility of never finding love or finding it rather late in life. But I do not care to try and convince myself that young love is not an experience I wish I would have encountered. Yes! We are irrational with youth! And yes! We rush into things and slow things down. But what is so wrong with that? When did purity and boundless authenticity get such a bad rep? Being blinded by love definitely has its shortcomings but I've never once met a single person that regrets the emotion itself. The very experience of feeling romantic love for another individual. That always seems to be labeled as priceless. So why is something that is considered priceless so easy to down play?
I think that being young and in love is necessary. Before all the bullshit gets in the way and you grow up and it's not about what you feel it's about what fits best within the bounds of your current life.
I have everything but the one human experience that so many have felt and found and I have only been allotted snippets of. I've been given the affection and acts but they were hallow. The closest I have ever come to feeling love was torn away before it had the proper chance to bloom. Is that what love is? An endless wager between two people? Who can last the longest? Who is willing to say it out loud? I often wonder if I had just said what I was feeling out loud things would have ended differently. Only in a perfect world are things black and white and only there can I attribute a failed relationship to one single force or action.
But life is never black and white and I've made peace with that. If it were meant to be it would just be. The best things in life don't need to be forced they just are. I guess it will find its way to me when and if the time is right. Maybe I have to give up some human experiences if it means fulfilling my life purpose. I hope one day I can open myself up to a person again. Now it's this butchered and sheltered pittance of what I used to be. If so many have discarded me before even scratching my surface will the one who finally sees me for me ever exist?
It seems so illogical but I guess it's just a waiting game, a game that I love to hate and hate to love.
Addendum: I met my first love one month after writing this entry.