hummingwolf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hummingwolf) wrote2002-02-21 07:27 pm
hummingwolf) wrote2002-02-21 07:27 pm
(no subject)
A little while ago I wrote a journal entry which read something like this:
"They say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But what if you have loved yet never had anything to lose? What if all your loves have been of either the unrequited or the 'this will never work so let's not even try' variety? Where does that fit in the scheme of things?"
I immediately deleted the entry because I didn't like the ugly look of self-pity. It seemed a sort of open wound I should disinfect and wrap in sterile bandages before going out in public so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of any strangers passing by.
But hey, this is my journal. I've got the right to exhibit a little self-pity here if anywhere. You love someone who likes the way you look but doesn't give a damn about the rest of you. You're with somebody who loves you but you can't find within yourself any enthusiasm for being in their company. You love someone who loves you but each of you knows a dozen reasons or more why you don't belong together. You never really understand what all the romantics around you are talking about because you've only observed their world from the outside.
Does anyone reading this entry remember what this felt like? It's been a long time for most of you, I know. If you have loved, if you've had something to lose and you've lost it, was it better or worse than this?
I know too much about losing. I know too little about love.
"They say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. But what if you have loved yet never had anything to lose? What if all your loves have been of either the unrequited or the 'this will never work so let's not even try' variety? Where does that fit in the scheme of things?"
I immediately deleted the entry because I didn't like the ugly look of self-pity. It seemed a sort of open wound I should disinfect and wrap in sterile bandages before going out in public so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of any strangers passing by.
But hey, this is my journal. I've got the right to exhibit a little self-pity here if anywhere. You love someone who likes the way you look but doesn't give a damn about the rest of you. You're with somebody who loves you but you can't find within yourself any enthusiasm for being in their company. You love someone who loves you but each of you knows a dozen reasons or more why you don't belong together. You never really understand what all the romantics around you are talking about because you've only observed their world from the outside.
Does anyone reading this entry remember what this felt like? It's been a long time for most of you, I know. If you have loved, if you've had something to lose and you've lost it, was it better or worse than this?
I know too much about losing. I know too little about love.
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