I never thought girls had cooties. I always had crushes, always the starry-eyed hopeless romantic, and unfortunately, almost always lovelorn. This is the way of things when you feel that love should be shared and celebrated, whether itâs platonic or romantic, whether you love someone or are in love with someone: you âlove not wisely but too wellâ, and it goes unrequited. The bright side is that because you allow yourself that freedom of love, you learn to accept it. Youâre able to pick up the pieces, and move on â perhaps not forgetting, but accepting, and forging forward.
But sometimes, it doesnât work like that. There are some that for whatever reason, you donât forget them, and you canât accept that theyâre gone, and forging forward seems an insurmountable task. The ones that, when youâve got yourself back together, and you think youâre ready, they pop back up in one fashion or another. A phone call, an email, a picture, running into them on the street, just the glance, the hint, and youâre right back where you were: picking up the pieces, and trying to forget how they felt in your arms, their smell, their voice soft in your ear.
It doesnât matter how strong or aloof you are, how stable a personality you have or logical you are. You can be a player, or a saint, or be able to cope with disasters both epic and personal without breaking a sweat. You can be inured to loveâs foibles (or think you are) all you want, thereâs still that person out there that bypasses all your defenses and coping mechanisms and destroys you, without trying or even wanting to. Pointing out their faults doesnât help, knowing you should move on doesnât help, knowing there are others out there doesnât help. Itâs too late: you are lost.
Iâve loved a lot of people in my past. And Iâll love many more before Iâm through. Iâve been in love, and have been lucky and blessed enough to be loved in return, and will be in love again. I know this. And one day, I may well finally be over her. But not today.