"Why do we make conscious decisions to take actions that we know will later hurt us? Does the logic of our heart secretly want to hurt us, or to test our rational decision-making skills? Is this then proof that we are really the idiots we make fun of everyone else for being?
"Meet a guy at a party, and you'll have a fun, light-hearted relationship that tears at your heart strings.
Meet a guy at a bar and you'll have sex. Chances are 50/50 that it'll be decent, on a good day.
Meet a guy on the street and a romantic comedy unfolds in your head.
Meet a guy in your apartment building and you'll have to move.
Meet a guy at school and you'll fail the class. Unless he's the studious type, and then you'll never go on a real date.
Meet a guy at work and it will be amazing for a week, a month, a few months, and then it's awkward. And then you might get fired.
Meet a guy at the grocery store and you'll be miserable for half of your twenties.
"The Big Breakup is huge, the world is over. Life ends. All of the "we's" have turned to "me's," and life suddenly stands still. After years of "us" and "ours" everything gets boiled down to "mine" or "yours." It's a nice feeling, that sorting and sifting. By all means you are miserable, but you feel a sort of pre-pride, knowing that later you will be proud of your present generosity and maturity. Maybe you'll brag about your "adultness" to another lover later, maybe you'll hide it but feel secretly smug. Maybe you'll get back together and you can cite how grown-up your break-up was as evidence for compatibility, effectiveness, and true love.
"Logic comes in to make a mockery of your life. How could you believe in all of those we's? How could you ignore those warning signs? The logical thoughts of your foolishness seeps through your mind, permeates your thoughts, quakes through your muscles. You knew it was a terrible idea all along. You saw the signs. The clothes you saw. The words you heard. The thoughts you felt glance off your intellect. The thoughts you held inside during all of those arguments about the smallest, most menial moments. But those were the moments of logic, jumping to the forefront of your heart, your existence. The arithmetic was correct: he was not the right one for you. All of your thoughts, reasonings, and observations and evaluations said so. In those brief moments you knew you were not loved or valued. That you were not living.
"So why did it last so long? Because you were stupid? Surely not. Because you were naive? Maybe. Because you were hopeful? Absolutely. Hope is the schmuck that bastardizes the logic-and-love conundrum. Hope for change. Hope he'll learn. Hope he'll see. Hope he'll notice. Hope you'll be satisfied. Hope it will get better, things will change, love will remain, death will wait and life will flourish. Life will flourish, but only because you secretly know in the places of your mind that hide from your heart that death is always around the bend, under the surface, and over your head. The end is always near, just out of your mind's eye, because you've forgotten to check your love with the calculator of "pros and cons" that exists in your mind--that inconvenient haven of unpleasantry that would spare you much pain should you have the courage and wisdom to save your love for those who deserve it.
"Of course, you could just forget love all together. You could just forget logic all together, of course. The social constructions of an imperfect human mind hinder happiness and life. A healthy awareness for the shadows that follow us through our happiest moments make them all the more vivacious, appreciated, and savored. Love makes us forget that darkness, and we wander through life in a blissful haze of hopes and dreams and plans.
"Plans are what really get you. That's where the logic cloaked in love fools you. Plan to save for a house. For the future. Plan for life: cars, bills, tvs, furniture, vacations, weddings, yards, kids, dogs, cats, gardens, kitchen floors, shelves, and paint colors. Plan away! You're in love, life awaits! You will love and be loved! All of it forever and ever.
"Until it's over.
"And then it's over. Death rears it's beautiful face, and reminds you that you knew this would happen. You always knew the end was along, taking you for the ride of your life the entire time. You can't stop staring at the death of a feeling, an emotion manifested in a physical relationship, a human being that you once told you loved and shared your most intimate moments and secrets with. The happiest moments you shared with that person, the saddest moments you cried with them, and the most stressful ones you spent longing for them. And that is what was beautiful in those moments. But all along it was ugly and love had filled your eyes so full of life that you were blind. The only clarity was those brief moments of doubt, those arrows of logic that stabbed at your love-filled sides. Cowardice was the mistress of love, refuting the logic soaked arrows at every turn. Hope. Change. Love. Plan. Future. Life. Happily ever after.
"Stop staring at death. Her beautiful eyes will hold your gaze forever and prevent you from ever moving on. Should you move on? No, never. Moving on brings you back to that guy at a party or in a bar, on the street, across the hall, or in the next cubicle. Death is allowing you to gaze into her eyes and see for that moment of locked consciousness that all there is in life is pain, hurt, agony, and the absence of it. There is no love. Love is just a name for the moments between deaths. Those moments where we loose all sense of logic, those thoughts and skills and observations and instincts that took our ancestors thousands and thousands of years to obtain and ingrain in the systems of instinctual being science can not yet fully describe.
"There is no death in life, just moments when the fake love we create dies in our hearts and seems to ferry our lives into the underworld with it. And when we arrive there, staring into that beautiful face of death, we see that our whole world is fake. Our life is false. Our love a fraud. And we know then, the death of love is clear, still, surreal, peaceful and fulfilling. And we know that the time between deaths is misery. But the misery is sweet, flavored with love and life.
"Life that blinds us, cowardice that guides us to the guy at the grocery store."
"Life that blinds us, cowardice that guides us to the guy at the grocery store."
- B. Conrad
Monday, October 29, 2012, 12:00:41 AM
**********************
It all just clicked.
And makes so much sense now.
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