Neil Gaiman wrote about love yesterday, I read it today, it was gorgeous. Words of silky smooth sweetness touching my soul. I had already planned to write something about love and got three-quarters of the way through writing this entry below before I read Neil’s words. They are far more accurate and far more true and far better-written words than mine but I thought I’d do my best to write what I think of love, at least for the moment.
“Being in love is like being in a constant state of nauseous nervousness.
You don’t want to annoy the person you love and yet all you can do is be a pile of awkwardness, clumsily grasping for straws. Your stomach becomes a highly trained acrobat when they’re around you and does high aerial nose dives if they touch your arm.
You’re delighted when you talk to them because everything else slips away. They become the focal point of the room, the day, the month, the year. Something for you to focus your madness on.
For their imperfections become perfections. The curvature of a smile and her often nervous laughter are the only two things you’ll ever need.”
I wrote the above poem (I think it’s a poem. I’m gonna say it’s a poem. Yep poem it is) some time ago. When I was smitten. Smitten reallllll bad. It was an interesting time. I wrote it after going to a formal with the girl I was infatuated with. I didn’t actually go with her (wasn’t cool enough for that let’s be real), I went with someone else, she was pretty delightful. I did, however, take the girl to my formal, and that was when I decided my feelings. Then it was two long days wait till this other formal so I could see her again (and I use a very mythical, regal her).
I wrote it when I came home from the formal because I felt all those things while I was there. I felt awkward sitting away from her and awkward coming close to her. It was the first time I’d ever felt it.
I finally truly understood the term lovesick.
I was truly maddeningly lovesick, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep without talking to her. I was captured under a spell of my own creation. Love is like magic. It really is. It’s this weird strange thing that overcomes every rational thought and every part of your soul. It makes you do dumb things and think stupid thoughts. It makes you giggly and bubbly and stroppy and slow. You get energy from love or you get depleted by love. It can turn on a dime from sweetness to sadness.
I was talking to my dearest, darling James the other night. He was asking a question I so often have asked myself in relation to love: “Why do I do this to myself?” Ahh, the age-old question. James frustratedly asked that question aloud, hardly expecting me to answer (which for the record I didn’t because I was thinking about the same question myself), he asked it several times, in a sobbing little manner. Then he laughed at himself. We all do.
I think an answer to James’ question is a very simple because it feels good.
It feels good to be loved and to love. there is nothing better. I promise you. There are two things I know:
1. There is no better feeling than loving someone and being loved.
2. There is no worse feeling than no longer being loved when you still love someone.
Love, as my Dad said to me earlier is all we can do. It’s the best thing that we can do.
PS. A link to the wonderous journal entry from Gaiman. http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2017/10/wedding-thoughts-all-i-know-about-love.html