Sometimes we love people so much that we have to be numb to it. Because if we actually felt how much we love them, it would kill us. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It just means your heart’s too big.
I’ve been cuddled under my duvet play acting like I’m a sleeping bear. It’s winter and I need to hibernate, to build a wall of snow between my fragile body and this frozen world.
I’m in bed sorting through old film and reading my biggest regret ever while ruminating on the meaning of ephemeral love. In my state of hibernation I’m avoiding the answer that will provide a rude awakening: it’s fading fast.
Maybe once love was real, when people spoke in flowery tongues and romance languages and romanced each other with pearls and carriage rides through the countryside. Maybe when soldiers went to war dressed in wool coats with brass buttons to fight for their starry-eyed child brides. Maybe when suitors scaled brick walls and serenaded their sleeping beauties from cobblestone streets. When people wrote poems and braved the sea and sands and time and troubles for one simple kiss.
Does this still happen?
My biggest regret is being too scared to find out. People don’t talk like they used to, conversations are condensed into 140 characters or less, abbreviated beyond belief, summarized. They leave out the pretty bit, spelling’s atrocious and messages are always lost in translation. The spring that I turned fifteen I didn’t have the courage to say Dakota I love you. But I really, truly did.
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