Love?

What is love? Normally I’m not a person who thinks too deeply on the topic. Truth be told, it was not a very influential element of my upbringing, though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder time and time again…why?

Someone talked to me about Valentines one day. Asked me what sort of Valentines message I would give to someone. I was like “Blahblahblahbemyvalentines”, though they asked me to be serious about it. After a bit of thinking, I admitted that I really wouldn’t have had anything to say to them- its not what I do. “Don’t you say I love you to anyone? Show affection to family?” they asked, and I admitted its not the norm for my family.

“Well you should give it a try!
It really helps with relationships and it feels nice.
You don’t want to not ever say it and regret it...
However, I say it to all my loved ones.
You have to trust your friends if not your relatives.
If there is no trust
Then what the heck is there?
You know?”

“I don't.”


I’m actually really jealous of the ones who can say “I love you” to everyone and not blink twice about it. Its not…natural to me, to hand out hugs and ‘I love yous’ as casually as giving away candy. Love has always felt…conditional to me. Something you had to earn. If you couldn’t prove you were worth it, you weren’t worth caring about. People gave me plenty of reasons over the years to make me believe that we lived in a shallow world, that your true worth was measured solely on how much you gave to people, and how well you fit their expectations. Perhaps this is half-true: society and the internet has flawlessly proven to be unforgiving to people they see as less than acceptable. But perhaps there are also people who are not so callous, and are far more accepting than most people are willing to believe, but are so few in number and overshadowed by the demands of perfection of the majority.

I keep looking back at myself, wondering why I can never admit my feelings for others. Why saying three simple words is the hardest thing in the entire world. Or why it scares me so much to say it. Maybe what I’m really afraid of, is that in the long run, the words and the feelings poured into them…they wouldn’t matter. Just as everything else, words and emotions, especially love, are painfully evanescent. Forever is only as long as its convenient, and convenience is as fickle as any man’s thirst for satisfaction. When you struggle to keep them satisfied for the love they promised you, is it really a love worth having?

And for someone that struggles so much for that…I’ve found it easier to be alone.

I don't have a sketch right now. I felt the need to write this out right away before it lost meaning to me again.

~Taddle