bdgarp:

Love Amongst Friends

It is cold and we have found warmth

In familiar hands, and

In the softened breath

Which only spoke before

Our bodies heal

And we swim and explore

Vast rivers,

Once concealed by borders.

Love can be hidden

From the mind,

So we are learning

Not to think.

She drinks coffee with cream
Pondering shades of gray dreams
Having wants and needs
But finding things in-between.

Her mind wandered and dreampt
Happily naive, no longer contempt
She had learned to forget
The day they first met.

Here’s the thing, I thought I was dead. My heart still beat, my eyes still saw, the world kept turning but I felt nothing. Apathy was suddenly my middle name. The vast amounts of nothing were unfathomably overwhelming. I thought my capability to feel was broken. The power to empathize, the capacity to laugh, the desire to want were like the earliest memories from my childhood; things I wish I could remember but instead were nothing more than a hazy outline in my memory bank. After finding something that awakened a part of me that I never knew existed, only to have it suddenly extinguished turned my world into Alice’s Wonderland; nothing made sense anymore. The problem was that along with losing my ability to feel, I also lost my ability to care.

I know now that my head was attempting to soften the blow to my heart; that if my brain could shut down the part of me that felt and cared, then maybe the scars left behind would be minimal. Unfortunately, the problem with lying to oneself is that, as with all lies, they eventually begin to unravel. Even as I convinced myself that I no longer needed him in my life, so too did I realize that traces of him were still everywhere. His voice was on my phone, his face glared back at me from my laptop, our friendship still existed on Facebook, our memories were in the lyrics of songs on my ipod and countless videos, pictures, texts, emails of once beloved conversations, filled all the social platforms I used to traverse daily.

Once prized possessions, these remnants now no longer held any weight. They all may as well have been blank. I wanted them gone. He reminded me of a relationship that was no longer mine to claim, so I no longer wanted any part of him in my life. Through self reflection feeling slowly returned to me and the only memory I would selectively carry with me was how it felt to have one’s heart broken. When you think you’ve found the one and they turn out not to be, the world feels wrong; like you’re the punch line to fate’s bad joke. That’s something I never wanted to forget, if only to remind my heart to be more careful next time.

The seven billionth person on this planet was born last year in 2011. This means that the world’s continually growing population combined with all of the incredible technological advancements in our modern society should make finding true love easier than ever. The statistics alone seem to be balanced in our favor with over 800 million people currently active on Facebook, nearly 200 million accounts on Twitter, and dating websites like Match.com which has over 96 million members or EHarmony.com which has close to 40 million people on its website and boasts that an average of 542 of its members in the United States get married every single day.

Yet, despite these statistics, people talk about true love like it’s a myth. It’s almost as if true love were something so sacred that its name spoken too often or too casually could result in it never happening to you. By my definition, true love is an all consuming, everlasting and unconditional bond between two people; an intimate connection that in and of it’s very being brings out the best in both parties. Should it turn out that true love really exists, perhaps that is why it’s so rare.

Even with the statistics listed above, the prospect of finding true love can be daunting, and the cold harsh reality that nothing lasts forever makes the possibility of true love hard to believe in. Consider this: the person who may fall madly, deeply, irrevocably head-over-heels in love with you today might wake up three years from now and no longer feel any of those things towards you. Why is this? Because Love is a scientifically proven mental state based on the chemicals in our head, solely based on our emotions and what we feel towards one another. So in reality love, or the mythological true love, is a fickle concept at best because people change and so does their outlook on life, their beliefs, their goals, their needs, their wants and their desires.

If you don’t believe me ask yourself this, “Am I the same person today that I was five years ago? What about ten years ago? How do I see myself five or ten years from now?” Age brings experience, knowledge and wisdom all three of which change who we are at a fundamental level whether we are aware of this change or not. So does true love or even the concept of a love everlasting exist? Who knows. They say that you need to be in Love to believe in love so maybe we need to find it first and judge it second. Truth be told, this twenty-something year old heart of mine tells me never to give up hope, while my twenty-something year old mind says don’t be a fool. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see who’s right.

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull’d by the moonlight have all pass’d away!

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft ,elody;
Gone are the cares of life’s busy throng,
Beautiful dreamer awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morne.

Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E’en as the moon on the streamlet and sea,
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

By Stephen Foster

The following letter was famously written by Ludwig van Beethoven to a woman he loved dearly (believed by Historians to be a woman named Antonie Brentano, circa 18th/19^th century). Curiously, this letter was one of three that were found in his desk post mortem unopened and likewise never mailed. It’s apparent to any reader from the very first words how much this man cares for this un-named woman, so it begs the question, what could have possibly stopped Beethoven from sending this letter?

To: My Immortal Beloved

Even in bed my ideas yearn towards you, my Immortal Beloved, here and there joyfully, then again sadly, awaiting from Fate, whether it will listen to us. I can only live either altogether with you or not at all. Yes, I have determined to wander about for so long far away, until I can fly into your arms and call myself quite at home with you, can send my soul enveloped by yours into the realm of spirits. Yes, I regret, it must be. You will get over it all the more as you know my faithfulness to you; never another one can own my heart, never, never! O’ God, why must one go away from what one loves so, and yet my life here as it is now is a miserable life. Your love made me the happiest and unhappiest at the same time. At my actual age I should need some continuity, sameness of life - can that exist under our circumstances? Angel, I just heard that the post goes out every day and must close therefore, so that you get the letter at once. Be calm, love me, today, yesterday. What longing in tears for you – You – my life – my all – farewell. Oh, go on loving me – never doubt the faithfullest heart.
         
          Of your beloved
          Ludwig

Ever thine.
       Ever mine.
               Ever ours.