Can't or Won't?

{19/01/2013}   Love

Love, in all of its possible incarnations, is never simple or easy. It’s also never stable.
As if alive, it changes, evolves, withers, and, because it was born, it can also die.

There is a propensity, at this day and age, to think there’s always another fish in the sea, another gazelle in the savanna, someone else out there, So why fight for got what you have now? It’s so much easier to pick another partner, to keep dancing…after all, there are 7 billion of us out there.

But that’s not exactly true, is it? No one will ever replace the one you left behind. You won’t ever go through the same experiences. Those moments you spent together are gone forever, left behind like discarded clothes.

So should you fight or let go?

I guess I don’t know. For me, I fight. I fight and struggle, bit and snarl, for every piece of love that wants to leave me behind.  However, if one doen’s want, two don’t tango. And that love that existes between two people will become an old ratty cloth, full of holes, that it’s good for nothing but becoming a rag.

But that doesn’t discourage me, because at least I’ll have the memories to keep me hopeful. Hopeful that maybe the next one won’t be the same, but it will also be good. Like a new shirt, bright and making me feel happy.

But I never forget that rag, and how it was once a new shirt that made was just as bright and made me feel just as happy.


I miss you every day.

There’s an ache deep inside my chest when I think your name. I reach for my cell phone to call you a hundred times in my head. But I don’t allow my hand to reach for the phone, because I know that if I do, I’m lost.

I miss you like I’d miss a limb.

Why don’t you give us a chance? That’s all I ask for. I’m scared too. Falling in love is scary. Falling in care is scary. But hundreds do it everyday, so why can’t we?

Come on, we’ll jump off the bridge together. Hand in hand.

And what if we crash and burn? What if we end up hating each other’s guts? What if? What if? What if we fall deeply in love? What if we have ten children and live in the country? What if we live happily together?

What ifs don’t make a life.

Your happiness isn’t completely in your hands, true. But we are given only so many chances. I guess what I mean to say is:

Here, take my hand. On the count of three, we jump. One. Two. Three.

et cetera