What is love? Well I am damned if I know.
What I do know is that once upon a time I found someone and my world changed. There were no violins, no birds, no lighting, and no thunder. We never had elaborate dinners; there was no champagne or flowers or chocolates or candle light dinners. What did do though is talk. We started talking and for years we never stopped. We could talk for hours on end about everything and nothing. When we would meet we would talk and afterwards I'd call him up on the phone on his way home and we would keep talking.
When he kissed me for the first time I didn't feel the universe change it axis. It was awkward and messy but it was okay because we could laugh about it. With time the kissing got better and maybe they were a few fireworks but it took a lot of work and you guessed it…talking. As time passed we didn't need to talk as much. We could be in the same room doing two different things. Occasionally we would pause and look at each other and smile and that was enough. I had found someone to share the silence with.
Don't get me wrong. It wasn't easy. There were ups and down and there was screaming and shouting, a lot of it, but its okay because there was laughter and kissing and conspiratorial whispers and comfortable silences. And then one day it was just over, and he was gone.
I can't describe what it felt like. I didn't almost die because life doesn't work like that. What happened though is that I became very sad and then angry, then confused and then sad again. I had a hole in my life. Where once there was stillness and quiet and comfort and conversation, there was now nothing…just nothing. The emptiness was too huge and it seemed that it would stretch on forever and ever without end. So I tried to fill the empty space in the stupidest ways possible. With loud music and partying and alcohol and when that wasn't enough with someone else. The wrong someone, of course.
When that ended there was depression and more stupid decisions, until I just got tired of coming undone and gave myself a tight slap on the face and started again. Oh the emptiness was still there but this time I filled it with the right things. Friends and family and work and dreams, until the emptiness was barely noticeable anymore, still tangible, still there, still gaping but buried beneath light and happiness.
And then I was back, vibrant and alive, myself again. But not quite the same. You never are. Stillness bothered me, silence bothered me, so I travelled, constantly almost obsessively. I went out all the time and meet new people and danced and sang and joked. As long as I was on the move I was happy. Eventually I found someone who was as restless as I was and we adventured together.
The stories we were told as children are all lies. There is no such thing. There is only life, messy, complicated and infuriating. The moment you think you've got it figured out, suddenly things will happen that will leave you winded and even more lost than you were before.
If you guess that I saw, 'him', again your right.
But this is the end. I should start at the beginning.