I’ve been unemployed for 3 months; I lost my job following
the PTSD diagnosis and the subsequent sick note. In that time, I’ve done very
little more than rattle around my house with nothing but my thoughts to keep me
busy. These thoughts almost invariably involve love in some form or another.
Often, I think of familial love and responsibility. Occasionally I think of
platonic love; the kind you find amongst friends. Most commonly though, I think
of romantic love. The type of love you find when you meet somebody in who’s
eyes you see the most perfect version of yourself.
The truth is, I miss being in love. Over the years, I have
come to fall in love with not just people, but individual moments themselves,
and these moments are stored like photographs in the sepia-toned confines of my
mind. I can remember damn near every moment wherein love literally took my
breath away.
I’ve written about love more times than I can count, and
whilst I’ve touched upon my experiences with those I’ve loved and lost before,
I don’t think I’ve ever been so honest as I’m being now. For that reason, I
don’t know if anybody will even ever see this. Maybe you will, maybe they will
and maybe she will. I guess it literally remains to be seen.
You see, I’m in that in-between place. That place inhabited
by those that have come to accept the end of a relationship, but still
occasionally mourn it.
They say that “time heals all wounds”, but it also creates
them. Time affords you both the ability to make peace with what no longer is,
but also inherently serves as a reminder of everything you’re missing out on. I
think most people follow a similar pattern after a break-up. Maybe you try to
stay friends, then realise that you can’t. Eventually you become angry at each
other, and ultimately all contact is cut. Social media accounts are blocked so
that you remove the temptation to see how the other is doing.
“Is she happier?”
“Am I?”
You begin to question every single moment of the
relationship. Everything you should have said but didn’t. Everything you
shouldn’t have said, but did. All the things you may or may not do differently
given the chance.
At this point, you may be wondering if I’d go back if I had
the chance. I know I am. If I’m honest, I don’t think I would, but I’d be lying
if I said I didn’t miss the little things. These past 18 months have been the
hardest of my life, and I can’t help but wonder how different things would be
if I hadn’t gone through them alone. It’s not the lover that I miss. That
person no longer exists. It’s the friend, but maybe she doesn’t exist either.
There are days that I wonder what we’d say if we ever spoke again.
As I sit here writing, and reading over the words I’ve
already written, I’m fully aware that I sound like a man not yet over that loss,
but the truth is far more mundane and simple. I’m a romantic. I believe that
there are things in this world that you only get to experience with one person,
and once that person disappears, those things leave with them. Those are the
things that I miss.
When you consider the time we have here, our lives
essentially last for no more than a fleeting moment, but the beauty of love is
that a moment can last a lifetime.
Of all the emotions that exist in this world, of all the
incredible and infinite possibilities afforded by the phenomenon of our
existence itself, nothing is so powerful as the experience that is true love.
Whether we care to admit it or not, we are all searching for it; yearning to
find that cosmic dance partner with whom we can share our own private universe.
Even just for a moment.
That’s what love means to me.
