Wednesday, June 22, 2016

On Falling Out of Love (with something)


Sometimes I will love something with such a passion that I don't think it will ever die. I will feel as if this is where I am meant to be and my love is just so intense that it's never going to change- how could something so strong, so sure, ever change? When it makes me feel like a dazzling bolt of light amidst moments when I am nothing so much as a swirling storm, made of rain and wet and roiling electricity, the idea of it changing simply isn't a part of the experience.

Because to feel like that- to have something make you feel like that, to find comfort, solace, hope, or love in anything, to be able to hold this thing up and say look at my passion, isn't it startling and beautiful and just perfect?- is one of the most gorgeous things in the world. It is something I yearn for,  even when I have it, and when I find it- when I find it I feel so full of glory it can be hard to stand, hard not to share and hoard and devote myself entirely to it.

Sometimes you can gaze at this thing and say look at my passion, isn't it striking and splendid and not perfect at all, but it is good and it makes me happy and I love it, so it's okay.

I understand that it isn't perfect. Not everything is. But I still love it. It still makes me thrill. And what could possibly be better? How could you get closer to actual magic than something that makes you feel like this?


And then, if it does, you wonder from afar: how could that have changed?
Why would it, when it was so terrific and joyful and lovely and not perfect at all, but as close as and all the more wonderful for that imperfection?

And yet... sometimes it does. It will. It has. I have felt it change. Sometimes there's a reason- the character or artist or person behind the work does something, big or small, and it just manages to shift everything- and sometimes there isn't, and I'll just look one day and feel less attached, see less of what is important to me. And sometimes I wish it didn't turn out that way. Sometimes I wish my passion never faded and that it could be easier to distance the creator from their work or the character from their actions, but not really. I have never wanted to support someone whose actions hurt.

Now and again the love fades for no reason at all and one day it's just gone, and you might retain the fondness, or the memory of what there was, even if it's no longer true. You're left with a way of not forgetting.

Sometimes love for a thing isn't constant, and you can put it aside and return to it and feel everything with full force once more, for as long as you're holding it, and you know that whenever you come back next it'll still be there, waiting, and it's so important but you don't always need to have it by your side to know that. You just need to not forget it- and how could you?

And sometimes... sometimes love doesn't fade. Sometimes you touch something and you know that even when it hasn't lasted every time, it will with this. And it is just as glorious and fantastic and splendid for every moment, and it doesn't negate your love for those other things, it doesn't mean that it's better or more important than any other thing that has become less necessary to your everyday life. It only means- to me, at least- that it's love. It is passion and imperfection and happiness, and it changes everything.


8 comments:

  1. And it makes me wonder if it's really love? Love is supposed to transcend time so if it fades, is it really love or just a fallacy?

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    1. Well I guess this post is about the fact it *can* still be, and *is* still love, even if it fades or changes. That just because it doesn't stay strong or the same year after year, it doesn't mean it's less important. For me, that's how it is. It's still important, and it's still real, even if it changes.
      xx

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    1. It can make things rather spectacular, that's for sure. xx

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  3. Love definitely isn't constant (it can be, though, which is wonderful), but nothing is constant in this life - even life itself. And I don't think that the lack of consistency makes something any less important in the long run, or any less special, or any less "love", or anything less of anything.

    Sometimes love changes, and I think that's okay. We can still recall the obsessions we had when children, and we can feel a fondness for them, but it certainly isn't the type of love that we feel for the obsessions we have in the current day. Because things change, and we change, and the love we have for those things changes.

    But if our loves never changed, then I think it would be harder to find new things to love, or harder to give our love to ALL the things.

    There ARE certain things that I will love endlessly, and that will never be shoved out of my heart due to time or anything else, and I think, perhaps, that those are possibly the most special of all. And there are only so few of those things. And I think that makes them special. That there are only a handful of things (or cats, you know), that are going to stay in your "full, intense, forever" love section of your heart because you know, resolutely, that nothing will change that love.

    But the rest of the things, the ones that change, they open up the "inconsistent but still important" love section of your heart to new and exciting things to love. And that is awesome.

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    1. Thank you, thank you, thank you. This comment made my heart sing quite a lot, and it definitely came at a lovely time for me.

      I also think that there are different types of love, and just because they're different doesn't make them less important. Like, we've got fandom love, and bookish love, and people love, and animal love, and passion and all of those amazing, beautiful things, and they're all unique. Bookish love is so different to my love for Kasta and Bella, your love for Figgy and Risty, but it's still love. It's still genuine and amazing and it's just different.

      I think you might be right. I know that the things I cherished as a child aren't so important by half, for the most part a least, as they were. The way I envisaged my life is so different, because I care about different things and I want a different outcome for myself. And if love didn't change, I would be stuck in something unhealthy for me, that would probably be destroying my body, and I wouldn't see how terrible that was. And if love didn't change, I might not be ableto make room for new loves, now books or series or otps or people.

      I have to say I really like the idea of your heart having different areas for your different loves. That's such a neat, nice, wonderful idea. *gazes off into distance* I think I'm the same. Like, nothing will change my love for Kasta, but authors can change my love for their books. And it sucks, but it happens, and sometimes you don't remember the love as you felt it because of the sucky things that changed it, but you know you still felt that love.

      Again, thank you so much for your comments and thoughts.
      xx

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  4. Lovely, Romi. Reminds me a little of one of my favourite quotes: “Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.” Ursula K. le Guin.

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    1. Oh, thank you, Glaiza. That means a lot to me. Your encouragement and kindness is always so appreciated.
      And what a beautiful, interesting quote. I can definitely see how this post reminded you of it. I like that idea a lot. xx

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