monologue de la perle

Some people are meant to fall in love with each other, but not meant to be together. However, some are meant to be together but not forever. Love can either be everything, or completely nothing at all. They say “love never fails, but if it fails then it wasn’t love”, or maybe it was? Perhaps the right person but wrong timing. But you see, it’s sad to not love, but it’s sadder not being able to love. Unfortunately my fate chose the latter. Did I choose to not have the ability to love, or was I blessed with a half assed curse?

As I’m here sitting in bed, typing this while I dramatically ramble on about my inability to love, I’m unsure whether I’m subconsciously thinking about someone or not. Maybe if we saw each other again I’d feel less just so the feeling is mutual, yet sometimes i still hope that maybe your heart stops a little when you see me. I tend to picture love as an accident, as if it was never meant to happen, as if it’s a disease that I need to avoid at all costs. I like to picture the moon accidentally falling in love with the sun, as if the moon was destined to fall in love with someone they can’t pursue.

Maybe some people really were meant for eachother, it’s just their choices that drifts them apart. Sometimes you aren’t meant to know people for your whole life, just certain chapters; ones that could be left on cliffhangers. One great love doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll be together forever. How long is forever?

Now, on to my favourite topic, unrequited love. Such a pretty phrase for such an ugly meaning. The way I write about it is like its art, when in reality it’s nothing like the books. In reality it could be a person’s cries and screams of rejection, crying on the bathroom floor and tear stained sheets. This cursed reality is a story that is known to have a doomed ending… right from the beginning. It’s like knowing what would happen in a movie but wishing for a different ending. What I enjoy writing most about unrequited love is that it’s always going to hurt, no after what. It’s knowing that telling a person you like them despite knowing it won’t change a thing or looking in someone’s eyes, knowing you once had mutual feelings but one regrets it more than the other. Its beautiful pain, and beautiful lies; called love.

When you repeat some words over and over again, they tend to lose meaning. That’s why I never tell someone I love them unless I actually mean it. Sometimes people still keep the painful habit of telling people “I love you” when in reality it’s just fruitless lies. Words hurt more than you would like to acknowledge. Take me as an example, no matter how much i say words don’t affect me, they still do. They affect everyone, just human nature i guess.

I find it entertaining how we describe the feeling of being in love as “falling” when in fact, it is the end that’s the fall. Love supposedly raises you high, higher than you could ever dream. And the higher you go, the greater the fall is when it’s over. So the moral of the story is that you should never fall too hard for a person because you don’t want to hurt yourself.

Despite me not believing in love, I would also like to experience love for a person. Just someone’s full affection, admiration, passion and love. I want someone to love me like the way I write it in my stories. Alas, i don’t think i’m destined to find love that meets my standards, but one can wish that the person can give me more than i hoped for, but that’s clearly not bloody realistic so i have little to no hope. As I conclude my melodramatic written monologue on love, I ask myself if I did in fact choose to not have the ability to love, or if I was blessed with a half assed curse?

- m.r