As I lay here with a cigarette in my hand carefully observing the smoke drifting away like my mind is trying to do from this blog I suddenly realise that my craving for literature has begun engulfing me again and I can almost feel the urge to begin writing crawling upon my skin and tingling on my lips.
I’m listening to Colors by Halsey, which I’d highly recommend you doing to feel this article.
It’s been a long few months full of heartbreak, love and excitement (if that’s what you’re supposed to call it) but again, I’m back to being mesmerised by the glint of the sunset shimmering in smoke rising from my badly rolled cigarette, it just seems like all of a sudden the world has become grey and has given up on happiness in the same way my mind tries to do regularly.
I’ve become permanently trapped in a state of exulansis without an opportunity to leave, it’s as though I have nicotine and words constantly racing through my veins which almost describes the turmoil my mind is in regularly, this feeling is Love.
The truth is that ‘Love’ isn’t just one thing or one feeling, it’s a strange act of nature which totally harnesses you to certain things and I suppose you’ve got to decide whether you’re in fact in love with a person or if you’re in love with the idea of being in love, I mean it’s quite easy to fall into the never ending trap of life wrapping you in media and ideal visions of love but do your expectations meet your reality? Are you dreaming and wishing that your reality merged into your fantasies?
Does he sweep you off your feet and carry you into the sunset or does he dim your sunshine so much that you’ve adjusted to living in the dark? Or does he shine so brightly that he burns you and makes you miss that dark, cold place?
This is the never ending revolving door of love and people so easily put it down to ‘it was them’ or start being self-inflicting saying ‘it was me’ when in actual fact you cannot ask somebody to cascade in your river whilst you know you’re heading for a waterfall, the same as you cannot ask a girl to bask in your sunlight if you know you’re going to supernova.
The truth is that everybody wants to bathe in the sunshine and have it just the right temperature at just the right moment when they’re at their happiness however, love doesn’t play by the rules of your fantasies and infects everybody retrospect of their situations or the moment of time they’re in which usually ends to the inevitable, it will end in Loss.
‘Loss’ isn’t a word I’d prefer to use when describing the act of departing a partner, it doesn’t feel like you’ve lost something, it doesn’t feel like you are trying to find it again or that it will simply one day turn up, it feels like you’re missing, like you’re cut-off from everybody despite being right there in the same room, you lose connection and lose the ability to relate to entertainment because your sorry little brain cells are trying to process all the memories that they’ve amassed from the stage we spoke about earlier, your little mind is running overtime to quickly hide any information of them that is stored there but how can it? Everywhere you look you’re faced with memories and things that relate to them, whether it’s the rogue smell of aftershave or the mirage of seeing them on your daily commute, it’s not ‘loss’ it’s a knife that doesn’t hurt at first because the adrenaline pumping through your veins protects your heart from becoming an absolute mess but that isn’t the worse part is it? No. The knife pushes closer and closer to killing the joy out of your life and making you totally lose control and connection from the outside world. It simply will not stop until you wipe your head clean of the ripped masterpiece in your mind which is still sparking with questions of ‘why didn’t they stay?’ ‘why didn’t she tell me it was going wrong?’ These questions flow through your mind for months until the Desperation hits you like a National Express train coming into London Kings Cross.
Desperation is worse than Loss but better than Love. It free’s you from responsibility and intertwines you with who you think you once were so you begin building blocks and burning bridges convinced you’re fixed and that nothing will ever get that bad again, you’re relegated to the fact love ‘isn’t your thing’ and you tell your friends ‘good luck in love’ whilst grinning through your teeth knowing that this is a mask and the quick succession of lovers you’ve had in the previous month meant nothing until you realise, you didn’t pay nothing for those one night sensations and blunt conversations because instead of letting time mend your heart you instead gave the little pieces to various different people who are clinging onto them in the wreckage of the desperate call for help you have made. You’re out at sea with no anchor and have realised that the waves slowly creeping up your hull are real and you weren’t fixed at which point it is too late. You sink. You sink and you fall into the blue abyss to be that sorry broken self again however, this time you tell yourself it won’t be the same and tell yourself you will heal those scars before you even think of bathing in somebody else’s Ray’s but what’s that? You’ve seen another healing streak of sunshine, you put on a brave face, you climb out of the abyss and play all the cards to make them like you and stay around as its what you think you need to heal..
The cycle continues.