Love Is Beautiful
Love is ‘beautiful’, isn’t it? It is beautiful, a beautiful tragedy. It is something to hold on to when you’ve got nothing to let go and sometimes, it is everything you’ve got to let go, just to move on. It is a place where reality doesn’t really exist, a place where you break and heal, a place which would always remind you of something you don’t have. And with love having so many dimensions, it is difficult to truly understand why it seemed easy in the first place.
I’ve been away from love for so long that I don’t even care. Yeah, not caring does hurt. But you know what, caring hurts more. And I’ve grown so aware about the presence of my solitude, that sometimes I feel I’m the only one who can give me warmth, that I am practically alone. And it is true. Sometimes you want a hug, just a hug and everything would fall back into place, but you don’t get one. Sometimes all you want at the end of the day is to hear a ‘You are doing great sweetheart, just don’t give up’. Sometimes, just a smile from them is enough to shatter you into tears, that at least you’ve got someone to hold on to when you thought that there’s no one at the end waiting for you. Sometimes, all you want to know is whether they even care, care about you or are they just aware of your existence, that you are alive and breathing. Let me rephrase it — ‘just’ alive and breathing. I know you’ll call it loneliness that I am going through and maybe I am, deep inside, helpless and all alone. Sometimes I don’t know if I am strong enough, sometimes I don’t know whether love would set me free or restrain me further into solitude. We all are just specks in this universe, and sometimes I can’t help but ponder on the smallness of this speck.
I’ve lived so far into reality that it has begun to ache now, that I’ve accepted reality as it is, and to such an extent that even love doesn’t feel real anymore. And anything unreal in my tiny little world strikes me like pins on a wound; I’ve almost stopped living in anything other than reality, stopped trusting anything which is unreal, stopped feeling anything that would drift me away from pragmatism. And this reality has secluded me, has always kept reminding me that I alone am responsible for whatever shit that takes place in my life, that I alone am enough to give myself warmth. I have been so dependent on myself for everything, that I can’t confer my trust on something unreal anymore; because I’d rather get disappointed from myself than keeping faith in people to begin with. And let me tell you this one fact that there’s nothing worse than disappointment and guilt. Life becomes heavier when at the end all you’ve got is emptiness to carry.
So loving people unconditionally, in a world which is more materialistic than real, is a pretty knockout job. And I’m afraid to fall in love people, ’cause they do not understand the difference between attraction and distraction. Here, love automatically comes with expectations and when you are afraid to feel repentance, expecting from people becomes tougher. Love becomes a senseless give and take task than something which was meant to make you feel what unreal feels like. It becomes more of a burden than comfort and bit by bit, how you never even realize, that you are rowing your boat away from love. And by the time you are miles away, what looked just beautiful before now looks like a beautiful tragedy. Love indeed is beautiful…isn’t it?
