Tuesday, May 10, 2011

The scars of your love, they leave me breathless, I can't help feeling we could have had it all

Fuck love.

There.  I said it.  And now I'm going to say some other things.  But before I do, we need to have a little up front contract.  I don't want to hear a word - not one word - of any variation of the following:
He's not worth it, no man is worth the tears and the one who is won't make you cry, you deserve better, wow, consider yourself lucky for dodging that bullet, time heals all wounds, one day this will be funny, what were you thinking, what was he thinking, I told you so, better you know now, one day your prince will come, buck up little chippy, everything happens for a reason, men don't make sense, or any other pseudo-intellectual response to a matter of the heart. 

So once more, with feeling...Fuck. Love.

Now.  Suffice it to say, I've always been the honest type with no problem sharing my heart, and I have willingly reaped both the rewards and the suffering by the hands of this blessed curse.  I regret very little in this life, if anything at all.  I believe in some bizarre mix of self-determined destiny and pre-disposed fate.  I am a product of the environment I have created for myself because of my faith in something bigger than even my over-active imagination can fathom.

And above anything else, I believe in the good in people and even though I'm busy hurling choice words, I still believe in love.  What I don't believe is how my life was just knocked from its safe place somewhere between a Broadway Musical and a Comedy Central special.  My best friend was right...my life truly is a bad country song. 

Without delving into too many personal tales, (or frankly, too long a story) in short, I gave he who I believed to be Prince Charming a road map along a sequined highway straight to my heart.  With an escape route!  I said you don't want this?  Totally cool.  Then take this path over here but dammit, please just choose a way already because Prince, it is EXHAUSTING dealing with your wishy washy ways.  And lo and behold, and for literally the first time ever in my life, my heart's most true confessions were received in both thanks and promise.  No "you're a great princess, but..." speech this time around!  Lets unit these kingdoms and get this party started! 

Not two days later, the Prince silently catapulted my heart into the swamp at the edge of the enchanted forest.  I found out about his change in heart and course over Ye Olde Facebook.  Why?  Don't know.  Cannot make heads or tails of it.  Pretty much just want to throw shoes and scream FUCK! a lot. 

Listen.  I know I bring this on myself.  And I know I found no Prince in the lad in this tale and it's time to get out with some thread of self-respect and grace.  He didn't break me; he broke us.  I will never be the prettiest girl, the best dressed, the most intelligent or talented, the perfect friend, selfless, overly kind, immensely charismatic, or the greatest human to ever touch anyone's life.  But if there is anything remarkable about me, anything at all, I believe that I was born with a ridiculous amount of love in an unstoppable heart that knows no boundaries.  If you need love, I will love the crap out of you.  I've got plenty of room in here.  And that's enough.  Because people who love big also get plenty from everywhere and everyone around them and the reality of the situation is that I'm only reflecting back all that shines on me.

I take back my earlier statement.  You know, the one revolving around the F-bomb.  Love's not the problem.  People who are afraid of it are.