There is no one way to love
(there are at least six)
You can love in a whirl of blunders, you can know nothing about anything and still give your heart to that person who makes you feel things for the first time. You can hate them when they leave you and love them still, you can pick up the phone to a prank caller at 3am and believe it’s them, that they need you, and whisper words of comfort, and realize you’re wrong and have been wrong all along. You can forgive and be best friends because you grow up and see that connection doesn’t always have to be about romance and there are passionate friendships in this world, thank goodness for them, they will forever be your favourite.
You can love out of desperation, with NEED your neon nametag, and lose yourself in the attention and the warm arms around. You can begin and end and begin again until you use up all your energy in the transitions and forget that you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to love this person who drains you, you did this to yourself, and yet you love. You can torture yourself, you can allow yourself to be used and mocked until one day you remember who you are.
You can love when you expect to, in the time and the place you thought were right(thought), and fulfill everyone’s expectations, which doesn’t mean it isn’t real love. You can follow that trajectory that people follow, the thing everyone around you assumed you’d do, as half of a pair, not you anymore. You can play the role and enjoy it sometimes and even desire it but you can never stop forcing it and so one day you say you can’t do it anymore and hate yourself for being more right at this time than any other.
You can love in a vacuum, the object unknowing and so unyielding, and imagine lying in bed at night what life would be like if only. You can see the face you want to see on every streetcorner, but never really, none of it is ever real. You can know the person and never know them, and they will never know you as you hide your love away. You can, in your blockheadedness, your youth, your masochism, studiously avoid them in the hope that this will make them notice you. You can live like this, but not for long.
You can love tentatively, unsure if you’re worthy, feeling ugly and too awkward even though everyone else has done this before, or so you think. You can bare your soul and your body inch by inch when they want all of you at once, and the shame is in the hiding, not what’s being hidden. You can waste so much time not believing in yourself that they will give up and you will have to start all over again with someone new who doesn’t know not to call you a lady or that there’s a sensitive spot on the back of your neck, and you can try again and fail and try again.
Or you can love openly and deeply, remembering to both give and take, acknowledging the humanity in both of you. You can accept that your weirdnesses are the things they like best, that you’ll never understand what draws them to you but it doesn’t matter. You can show them your secrets because you are certain they’ll never betray you, and they never will, no matter what happens. You can feel safe even though one day it will end, as all things do, one way or another. You can be wide awake, you can be free and anchored all at once, you can both have your needs and wants fulfilled and dream up a thousand more and they will come true, for awhile. You can stand the pain at the end because everything that has come before will remind you that there is something to live for when you’ve forgotten every other thing. You can, you can, you can.
