The hardest part about loving someone is that when they’re packing their boxes, you’re forced to pack your own. We hate when people change our plans. When life is taken from our control. When walking away is all there’s left to do.
But sometimes people turn around. Sometimes love comes back, and this time you’ll hold them tighter. You’ll listen longer. You’ll love them better. Love is many things. It’s flawed in many forms. But love is when they forgive who you were in order to love who you are.
Of course we want perfection. We want the best picture, best job, best hair.
But perfection is when you see his crooked teeth beyond the gap of his smile. It’s the scar on your arm from where you fell out of a tree at age eight. The way you hold your fork the wrong way and the phobia you’ve hid for so long. It’s the way your moms voice echoes through the house and your family bickers on Christmas morning. It’s the times someone stutters amongst excitement and the times you fall asleep, mid-sentence, on the phone. It’s the way you snore in your sleep when you dream of perfection. But what society won’t tell you, is that perfection is imperfection and imperfection is perfect.
They don’t understand. They don’t understand why you’ve collapsed on the side of the road, sobbing hysterically into your hands. They don’t understand why their messages sit in your inbox, unacknowledged for days. They don’t understand why your mind wanders to dark places, despite their constant pleas to cheer up.
Don’t get it wrong, they care – but they don’t understand.
They don’t understand how you’ve lost respect for life, how you can’t find anything to live for. You hold onto the familiar, aching to relive the simpler days. They don’t understand how you’ve stopped dreaming. You’ve stopped embracing the warmth of fresh laundry. You’ve stopped savoring the last sip of your morning tea. You’ve stopped smiling at the innocent, young faces you see on the street. You’ve stopped living.
Sometimes I like that I believed your lies because it meant I thought the best of you. Sometimes I like how hard I tried to make things work, because it meant I was open to the idea of you. Sometimes I like the times things went wrong, because it meant I was willing to fight for you.
It’s bittersweet getting through something with the very person who put you though it, but I’m so glad I did because it meant life hasn’t yet, made me cold to the idea of love. And that’s because of you.
I wasn’t ready to love you when I met you. There wasn’t anything you could’ve said, or anything you could’ve done. You gave me time to decide, time to open my arms but I didn’t, because I couldn’t. Our love was lost, our chance was missed. If timing is everything, then time worked against us, and too often I look at the door and hope you’ll walk in, so we can meet again.
Why can’t we speak for the animals? Why can’t we have a meat-free diet without being a hippie. Why can’t we have a love for cats without being lonely or stand behind PETA without being accused of following a trend. Why can’t we smile at a puppy without being weak or give the animals love back, without being crazy.
Perhaps animal lovers just need to find that love. A therapists, a friend, a family member. It’s unconditional. It’s irreplaceable. A love that can be felt with no words, no sounds, no grand gestures. It’s a rare thing in life that reminds us that sometimes, love can be silent.
We spend our lives preparing for the day we graduate college. The day we enter the real world and the day we’re left on our own. Society has put it in our heads that life starts and stops when we’re handed a diploma. We have so much to do and so much time to do it, yet we live to believe it should already be done.
Life shows no mercy as we’re hit with a wind that keeps pushing back. Teasing us of happiness beyond the cold. Success beyond the struggle. The hardest thing to do is look up and look forward, so too often, we turn our backs, and lose sight of the path we were walking. The only way we’ll succeed is to use the push of the wind as momentum and use the idea of falling; as the very something that keeps us up.