What I have learned over the years is that whenever there is excitement, joy, love, and happiness – you can be certain that pain, loneliness and bitterness are not far behind. Lurking at the edges of your peripheral emotion. Waiting to give you “perspective” and ensuring that you never forget that everything- happiness included – is only temporary.
Perhaps in some secret, sadistic way, I have grown to enjoy this pain. Perhaps I ask for it. Perhaps it is my comfort zone. Familiar. Understood.
People tell me that I need to find happiness in myself. Well, I had that – at least I thought I did. It feels different when someone comes into your life and claims to love you though. That brings with it a different type of comfort. A lightness, a joy, where I am launched into the atmosphere to skip among the clouds, at least for a time. Is it really possible to find that kind of love within Oneself? I’m not sure. In some way, the delta emotion seems to be increased by the presence of another person.
It seems to be a popular theme in this day and age, to reject the notion that we need other people. That we can be wholly happy and in love all by ourselves. But, what if I were to simply admit that I don’t want to be all by myself anymore? Is that such a terrible thing to confess? I realise it may not make substantial difference at the end, we all die alone, etc – but what about how I want my life to be in the meantime, while I am living?
And besides, noone is wholly happy and in love with themselves all of the time. We all have demons we battle with daily, so why does it feel like just mine are always victorious?
Why does this one wish, this one desire, elude me – regardless of the days, months, years spent “working on myself”. All that appears to have done is render me more detached, more isolated.
He said he loved me.
That I am the “collateral beauty” in his life.
That I am safe.
Nevertheless, three days later he was gone.
Like they always go.
I do not doubt that he meant it. I do not doubt that he is in pain.
Maybe it’s better to stay alone. Eventually, I will be content again, like I was before.
And then I will meet another, another, another. I will be swept up, and cast down. And so it goes.
The line between being collateral beauty, and collateral damage, is blurry indeed.