Reject beauty on the fear of pain


I’ve been listening to slow songs recently, though I once said I would never love any song that was even half as quiet or as thoughtful. I was, as I very often am, wrong. Every song has its appeal, or it wouldn’t have found its way to our ears and hearts.

I have to admit I’ve been listening obsessively to xxxxx this past week after the awkward conversation on Monday in order to stop myself from making the first move. It worked out beautifully in the end, despite my friends constantly telling me that he’d lose interest.

I think everywhere I walked I saw flowers after that little talk, for which I am eternally ashamed. I’m done with being infatuated and I’m done with obsessively talking about a potential guy with my friends, who are tired of it all anyway. My last relationship began in the most pathetic way; I burned myself out on the guy within three days after being hopelessly attracted to him. I can’t even summon up one reason anymore! Young love is incredibly cruel.

Writing about it all comes easily, bad prose leaps fully-formed from my mind. It’s not well-written I think, but I can’t help being charmed by it anyway because it’s genuine, written in the heat of passion or dull sadness. I am a child scrawling its own language upon walls, what I see as art is what others see as vandalism. Still, I’ll carry on writing about it to the end, where it will climax on a clamour of fury and ultimate depression. Isn’t that charming?

I’ve been reading this Facebook story about love that’s been doing the rounds, with its ‘4+1’ theory about love. While I do agree that people do bandy about the word ‘love’ far too thoughtlessly, and that love should involve understanding of your partner, I disagree with the concept that you could so heartlessly dissect love into four sections, tick boxes almost, of what you think you desire in a partner.

Infatuation is sweet, and if it progresses into genuine admiration then it is even sweeter. How many good memories would I lose had I turned someone away because he failed to have a tick in one of my necessary sections? I think we should plunge into experiences, not coldly analyse another human being (with entire worlds in their heads that we can never hope to access), just to protect ourselves from loving someone who is wildly inappropriate and ending up hurt. To reject beauty on the fear of pain is the most cowardly thing I have ever heard, and it would certainly be enough to end whatever attraction I had towards that person almost immediately.

I’m not saying that I’m immune to sadness when the relationship ends, I’m not a block of unfeeling stone, but it’s important to appreciate the good memories you made even while you are sobbing on a friend’s shoulder. In this way, no matter how trite this expression sounds, I might live a life without regrets when it comes to love.

If you’re interested in the story I read on Facebook, here’s the link to the page:
It’s a wonderful story, full of good meaning even if I might disagree with certain parts of it. I thoroughly enjoyed it.