Do you guys think romantic love exists?

What I mean is, is romantic love an actual state of consciousness that we fall into or are we conditioned by society to think that it exists, and therefore label things “romantic love” when we think it’s close enough?

(Source: boney-bones-washington)

The state of being in love is a series of moments, not necessarily one right after another. Love is less like a straight line, and more like Morse Code.

I remember the first time I got the flu after moving away from home. It was then that I realized the benefit of not always having someone there to worry about or care for me; I already knew how to take care of myself. It was then that I began to realize that I could survive on my own, if I had to.

My college years brought more illnesses, along with flat tires, fender benders, cooking mishaps, other domestic disasters, and seeming disasters in the department of love and friendship, all of which I had to go through on my own, not because I wanted to prove a point, but because I was alone.

Alone isn’t determined by the presence or absence of people; not by friends, a lover, or family. Alone is a way of life: emotionally, mentally—alone.

Alone is what you adapt to. Alone is how you learn to navigate the world. Alone is how you’ve learned to deal with relationships.

You are alone, not because you don’t enjoy and at times cherish certain company, but because you do not ask for any emotional support. You do not depend on anyone to be there for you, therefore you do not expect anyone to be, and this is normal. The problem manifests when someone who is not alone, or worse, someone who does not what you to be alone, tries to break down your alone barrier. 

So you push back to try to stay in the comfort of alone. Alone is safe, alone is home, why would you want to leave? After time, this person who doesn’t want you to feel alone becomes frustrated, unable to pry you from alone’s grasp and sick of trying. So that person gives up, and somehow you feel even more alone.

And this kind of alone is not safe. It is not home. It is empty.

So you crawl back father into alone, as to not feel this alone again.

Tonight, I was talking with a friend who was once a lover, or considering his friendship, perhaps a lover still, and we were having our routine conversation about life and love.

“You should write some of this shit down,” he said.

So this is me, writing some of my mushy musings about my journey to perhaps become less of a pessimist, and more of a romantic optimist.