Te espero sentada
Long time devotees of the Sparkle Pantsosphere will remember the enthusiasm with which I did not pursue a certain blue-eyed lawyer type in the former city of my residence. Eight months ago or so, I realized that I no longer cared with every fiber of my being about him and it distressed me, so I pretended that I did care with every fiber of my being until five or six months ago when I could no longer lie to myself. I am thankfully, mercifully over him. Since then, I’ve had a few sad moments, especially when I see someone who reminds me of him but by and large, my memories are becoming grayed at the edges and I haven’t been able to remember his face in a year. The eyes, yes. The face, not so much. There are some memories that I keep in a special place because they thrill me down to my toes, even now, but it’s more the abstraction that I find thrilling instead of his fleeting attention.
Recently, a friend has been asking me questions about the fairness of life and love. Why do we fall in love with people we can’t have? It isn’t fair, is it? Why is the world so cruel? I’ve struggled to answer those questions because I struggled to answer them for myself when I was in the same boat. I still don’t have a coherent response, other than to say that the degree to which you’re willing to live with it is entirely up to each individual. I know people who would rather forcibly remove their hearts from their chests to avoid living with something like an unrequited or unfulfilled love. Me? I’d rather love passionately and with the full fury of the universe for one person than force myself to not love anyone, or worse yet (for me, anyway), love someone else half-heartedly.
But sometimes, even those intense feelings fade and disappear.
And then sometimes, you only think they have.
ETA: I should clarify, as Green Canary mentioned, that this whole loving someone a whole bunch hurts like a mother.fucker (my words, not hers). I would imagine that getting kicked in the face with golf cleats feels better than this.