dear diary...

let's get intimate

I made this promise to myself that I’d write a singular blog a week for the rest of the year. Of course, while my drive has increased, so has both my workload and my procrastination. As I sit here on Sunday night, no real path with my words has formed, but I feel strangely determined to keep up this promise to myself.

To any reader, as few as I’m sure you are, I want to add value just from your brief time spent on this. I had the loveliest day imaginable, and I think it would be very wrong of me not to share the insights I’ve found.

I’ve loved someone else probably 3.5 times. An oddly specific number, but it’s the only answer that feels right to me. The second time I was in love, I was 20 years old and entirely blind to the basics. I felt like I was learning how to parallel park, and anytime I made a move, I’d hit the car in front of me, pause, and then somehow manage to hit the other car. It was disastrous.

But this love was big. It was screaming, fighting, crying, laughing, feeling, dreaming, talking, and silence. It was all-encompassing and served as my sole sustenance; truly, I forsook everything else. I swear, I was so anxious the entire time that when I look at photos of myself from this time, it’s shocking that I didn’t blow away with every strong breeze. It was all I could think about; if my mouth was open, I was probably talking to him or about him or something in between. And for a while, I thought that’s how it was supposed to be. I thought love was supposed to be so headstrong.

It was absolutely breathtaking. And by that, I mean that loving him felt like a competition of how long I could hold my breath for. It felt like a game of seeing how much I could live through. How could I make this all mean something? Worth something? I held my breath until I was red in the face, and I needed to feel like it mattered. Everything I had given up had to have mattered.

But then, after months of crying on the floor, nausea, and losing sight of myself. I met someone new. While things with him didn’t work out in the long run, I have to give him credit. From every love, there’s a lesson to be learned, and as silly as it may sound, this one taught me how to breathe. With him, I could finally exhale, and I learned the true power of a love that doesn’t exist within the confines of extremes, but one that is far more dependable. I am forever grateful to have realized this now; this mercurial nature is only entertaining for so long. You can’t stay on the rollercoaster forever.

I’ve loved after him too, and I’m sure I will continue to love again and again and again. What a blessing it is to meet all of these versions of ourselves in these relationships. Whether you’re feeling like you need to hold your breath or take extra care to exhale today, just remember that each love will find you at the right time. It’s impossible to predict what comes next, but I’m sure each one will continue to be even better than the last.

I’m not proofreading this, so if you’re still here, I love you, bye!