It's hard to tell your mind to stop loving someone when your heart still does. It's hard to sooth your aching heart when the ache is all that keeps you sane. It's hard to shield yourself from the pain of heartbreak when the pain is all you crave. And love is all that and more. It's hard. It's insane. It's painful.
But still, we crave it. We invite it into our lives and hold it back when it tries to flee. We imagine things just so we can feel its presence in our world for a moment longer. We tailor our world just to accommodate its ruthless demands. And still, we crave it.
But what happens when the imagined emotions and the manufactured memories come crashing down. What happens when the person we think we are in love with decides to put an end to the dreams and hopes of a fairytale ending? What happens when they move on and we remain stuck in the shattered remnants of our dream castles, still hoping against hope that our castles have only suffered superficial damage and that everything will be alright?
And who’s to say that it won’t? Who’s to say that things won’t turn around and the castle walls won’t be rebuilt? Who’s to say that the slightest flicker of hope in the deepest corners of your heart isn’t enough to bring it to life? More miraculous things have happened before. And isn’t love a miracle in itself?
Love is no more than an intangible emotion and no less than the most material embodiment of life. It is what makes the world go around and also what stops it right in its tracks. It can be felt in the most passionate of embraces and also in the softest of glances from across the room. It can be hard, yet soft. It can inflict pain, yet be the balm. It is strong, yet weak. It leads us down a path we seldom know of, yet it feels as familiar as the back of our hand.
On a personal note, I know what it feels like to have loved and lost. I know what it feels like to receive words of love and also the feelings that wash over us when we recount them after the storm. I know of the manner in which we bask in the glory of the letters of love addressed to us and also how we crawl alone into our beds with them in the dead of the night, just to savour the touch of the old paper and the soft impressions of where the pen touched it. I know how it feels to sit in a corner of the party and not feel alone, and also how it feels to be in the centre of one, yet experience loneliness.
A million questions lace our mind, only one confounds our heart. Why? This is the one question that can never be truly and wholly answered. The one question that haunts us till the end of time. The one question that cares not how much it hurts us. The one question that revisits us in the raucous celebration of fulfilment and also in the silent splendour of heartache.
However, I find that in our heart of hearts, we welcome love. We welcome it in spite of the baggage that it carries along with it. We invite it along with the pain, the joy, the doubt, the assurance, the questions, and the answers.
And all along, we pray that once it accepts our invitation, it doesn’t decline. We pray that once it steps into our hearts, it doesn’t ever have the heart to leave its embrace. And yet, all along, we steel our hearts just so that if it does, we are strong enough to bear it and also strong enough to send out fresh invites.