So, you like tequila now? We can pull our caps on over our ears and sit out on the balcony and drink tequila out of the bottle until we’re warm. I’ll do that with you. When my tongue starts to feel thick in my mouth with the liquor and the feeling I will stop talking and let you fill the silence. My mind will wander away from you and I will try to be alone with you.
Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
No, then what is love?
People talk about love like it’s all solving. All eradicating. All good. I think obviously that love is complex like any other emotion. Not all good and not all bad. Not all of anything like any healthiness is. I think it’s an insult to love, to simplify it so. I think love has its worst days, just like anything else. I think we’ve turned love into the bad guy by making love the hero. Love exists in a vacuum? How can love be all these things? And how can we exist in the same space with all the air sucked out of the room and all the shelves shoved full of our expectations?
You go about your life thinking you’re complete, then you meet someone and realise you’re only half of something. People laugh about it: ‘Have you met my other half?’ Then when you meet that person… you know it’s true. You’re only really whole when you’re with each other. Never ends well, does it? … Love. It makes you strong and… then it pulls you down. However it happens… one half always loses the other.
People have turned love into the antithesis. It’s either love or not. And somehow love is everything. People are afraid to be alone, so they think love will solve it. But can’t we be alone and still love? Can’t we love from our solitude? Someone will quit first; someone will die first. We are bound to be alone again. It is our natural state. But we’re not taught to love for the moment, or to try for the moment. Instead we torture and pull at love, trying to stretch it out, to keep it past the expiration date. We destroy love in the name of love. If we put as much energy into loving ourselves, wouldn’t that ultimately be the most fulfilling? Instead, we’ve ruined it.
I overplay my playlists. I get tired of them. But do you ever stop loving a song? Don’t we still love it in all its familiarity? Do you ever think that?