We are in an era where relationships are just difficult. Simply just that: difficult. As hell. It doesn’t matter what kind of bond it is, whether it’s the love between you and your parents, or your partner, or your friends or your peers. We have stepped into an abyss of fear when it comes to loosening up and being honest about who we are and what we want. Love is no longer love but an excuse to be less than human and we justify it by saying that love was never supposed to be easy anyway.
Love is not hard. Humans just choose to make it impossible.
We love selfishly, pouring self-pity all over ourselves whenever we don’t receive the love we expect from people, sinking in misery when we are not given what we demand. Yet, we don’t stop to ponder that maybe, call me crazy, but maybe love means a lot more than just flowers and chocolate and jewelery? Maybe love means a whole lot more than presents and Facebook photos and social acceptance? Maybe, just maybe, love is a bit more about the heart and bit less about the illusion that it should always be this perfect bubble that never bursts?
Love is not hard. We just choose to destroy it before it has had the chance to plant roots.
There is nothing lame about being lonely. It does not mean you are incomplete. There is nothing strange about being unable to connect with just anybody. There is nothing pathetic or ungrateful about feeling unhappy or restless in the midst of a happy and wholesome moment. It’s not unusual or unheard of. The human condition is to feel lost and a little bit afraid until we discover the kind of love that makes loneliness seem foreign.
They say that there is a clock ticking. An invisible clock that loudly reminds us about how much time we have left and that our opportunities are decaying as we speak. There is a mental image, a painted superstition, a note written in stone everywhere that if you are unmarried and in your thirties or older, you will probably never find love. Never have a family. Never be complete.
Don’t believe this trap.
Love is not about finding something to make you complete. Love is about finding someone who makes you appreciate your wholeness. It is about finding someone to explore the unknown with and to complement and critic and challenge your soul. Love is about letting someone take your wholeness in their hands and knowing that even if they drop you, even if they let you go, you won’t shatter on the ground. You won’t break.
You’ll just bounce back, better and more brilliant than ever.
Wait for that love that makes you happy. Not the superficial happiness that comes and goes when times are good. I mean, wait for something that makes you truly smile. Something that will spark your curiosity about the world again and you feel nothing less than perfect bliss to just lie in bed on a Saturday night with cookies, smiles and stories. Wait for the one who will hurt you but only because the happiness is so great that your heart can’t hold it in anymore, so joyful that your heartstrings start stretching uncomfortably.
Let go of the butterflies-in-your-stomach average love.
Don’t marry them until you feel dragons breathing fire in your belly every time you make eye-contact. Don’t bow down for just any kind of love. Wait for the miracle.
Wait for the right kind of love.