That’s how I feel about love. It’s just a glorified concept that alludes me, always just out of reach. I don’t believe it to be a tangible feeling, but rather a legend we tell around the campfire to help us sleep at night.
I’ve heard it said that God’s love is enduring and forever, the only of it’s kind; we should feel it and know it to be truth. To me, love seems just beyond the next hill or maybe around the next turn, the perpetual chase. But today especially, I feel too overwhelmed and exhausted to chase it. I don’t feel God’s love and I definitely don’t feel any other kind. All I feel is the injustice of love’s interactions.
We tell ourselves that love is worth it, right? That one day there is a happy ending somewhere in the midst? Like when the nicest girl you knew in high school lost her father to cancer, or when your best friend gave everything she had to a man she loved, but he changed his mind? Happy ending, right? Or when a friend of yours just wants the beauty of marriage, but her boyfriend of two years is too afraid to commit so they break up. Or when her roommate wants to date someone that shares her values and beliefs, but she’s stuck in a whirlwind of hurt and disappointment from the lack of evidence that such a man exists. Tell me love is real. Tell me why, after confronting the man that broke my heart and stole my virginity apologized, I don’t feel any differently; not relieved or happy, just numb. Tell me love is real.
I need to know that one day pain isn’t going to twist the knife in my heart anymore, or that shame won’t tighten its grip on my throat anymore. I want to feel that love is real, and I want to be able to breath again when I think about my chances of having a happy ending. I want my friends to know the riches of love, and I want to believe in it again. But for now, it’s just a concept.