It’s June now. Good old summer is here. And I’m laying in bed at 8PM on a Saturday.
Okay okay, I know I’m being lazy, but I don’t do this all the time. I’ve been really social lately, more so than I imagined I’d be. I’m actually proud of myself for it. And I’ve been staying true to exercise. I’ve been hiking and rollerblading just like I promised I’d do.
I’m keeping up on myself. Making sure I don’t slouch my life away. It’s hard not to be a slouch when I don’t have to work anymore. I have to make a conscious effort just to get up and at least go for a walk. “It’s just a walk Melanie. You can do that.”
And then after my walk, I somehow have a surplus of motivation to get in touch with people I haven’t seen in a while. Everybody I ditched from when I had to work 70 hours a week. It always happens after I take a walk. A walk that I have to make a conscious effort to take.
I’ve been redefining my definition of love. I always thought love meant that you cared about someone. That you look out for them and keep their best interests at heart. But this definition depresses me because it’s the “movie” kind of love. It’s not real. Assuming a person cares about you is the worst assumption you can make. It sets you up for the worst kind of heart break imaginable.
In the end, all people care about is what they can gain from you. What you offer them. And if they like what you’re selling, they’ll love you for it. Heck, they might even become addicted to it. They may become in need of it and when they reach that phase of need, most people consider that love.
No matter what angle I look at it from, this is it. The harsh reality.
I’m honing in on the unreciprocated kind of love. The one-sided deal. I love people, but in my own way. The kind of love I’m talking about can handle rejection.
I’ve narrowed down what love is in one sentence; Being happy that a person is alive (or has lived).
You don’t want or need anything from them, but just the mere fact that they are alive, brings you joy. And therefore love. It’s not even unrequited love because you don’t want them to love you back. Sometimes even preferring that they don’t in some instances.
“Just do your thang man, I love ya bro.”
It’s the most basic kind of love. It’s the kind of love people have for movie stars they’ll never meet, or fallen hero’s that died for a cause – you love them for merely existing. “Thank you for your service” kind of love.
A new baby has entered the world. They contribute nothing, drain you of money and sleep, but you still manage to love them merely for existing.
It’s a primal, earthly love that is lost to us in youth. When we stop buying Teen Beat magazine and pining over Ralph Macchio.
Granted, you should never idolize anyone, I’m not saying that. But you can appreciate their existence from afar.
After puberty, most kids stop appreciating from afar when they learn other needs can be met in closer vicinity. Needs such as sex, or an egoic need that makes them feel good about themselves. It has nothing to do with appreciation and it’s all about what they can get.
It’s like they stopped dreaming and started settling. They settled for immediate gratification obtained through the use of another person. And if that person stops procuring what they need, they get dumped.
I’m trying my hand at the unattached kind of love. It’s like hippie love, but I’d rather think of it as the most basic primal love there is. A love that we lost interest in since it’s not obtainable. It can’t be controlled.
You love a person for merely existing, so let them exist. Don’t interfere. Add to their life, not destroy it by means of control or jealousy. Because you’re afraid of losing them. Afraid of losing someone that defines your own existence.
If you love someone, let them exist. Appreciate them.
If I can find someone who’s able to love this way, I’ll marry them and never let him out of my site. You can’t trust those damn hippies with their enigmatic gravitational energy.
The doctor thinks my Dad might have prostate cancer.
My brother – “Don’t google it.”
He know’s how much I like to Google things. But I took his advice and have not done so.
My Pop went in for a routine blood check and found out he has a large number of a certain type of blood cell associated with prostate cancer. The doctor wants to wait a month to see if they rise again.
I’ve always been a proponent of unattached love. When I’m at my strongest, I’m invincible to all heartache. I don’t let anything beat me down.
But that’s never been the case with my parents. I’m attached to them big time. I need them. I’ll never be able to let go. So this whole prostate thing, it can’t happen.
I’m not Googling it. I can’t. I won’t.
I can’t do this thing they call life.