Someone asked me the other day what I write about. I've answered this question a thousand times before and usually say something to the effect of, "I write about all of the stupid shit I've done." I say things like that because the truth about what I write is devastating to my ego, because what I really write about is all of the men I have dated, loved, slept with and who have wrecked my heart. It's hard for me to give that much power to these people and to love in and of itself.
I believe in and want love so much I have nearly destroyed myself in the pursuit of it and that makes me feel weak. On the other hand I don't think most people really appreciate the strength and composure it takes to wear your heart so far outside of you body that anyone can pick it up; and when they do, to have the courage to fall in love with the same intensity and faith in another person that you blindly had with your first love. I think I have had my heart crapped on so many times I don't feel angry anymore, I just feel grateful for the love however big or small, long or short that was given to me. I think that takes strength and I think it means I've learned something even though I don't know exactly what that something is.
Through falling so hard in love with so many emotionally starved men, I have experienced love in a very different way than most people understand. Instead they think I'm stupid, or have low self esteem but really the idea of being in a relationship with someone who has a good paying 9-5 job, a college degree and who's idea of a good time is renting a Red-Box movie and drinking a glass of wine, absolutely putrid. I'd much rather date someone who is as unstable and impulsive as I am, and who's idea of a good time is to get bombed in a dive bar and make friends with the most worn down souls we can find in the dim lit brick corners, or who's idea of saying I love you is an apology.
Ben once told me while he was breaking up with me, "I wish I could see the world through your eyes." Over the course of three years Ben dissected my heart and broke it everyday that we spent together. Ben belongs to the type of people who force themselves to be normal. He is in law school in hopes of becoming a political leader and I want to paint pictures and write words. I know Ben loved me, but I didn't fit into his life. People like Ben have had their lives planned out before they finished high school and do not hold the bravery to deviate from the box they put themselves in before college.
I think most people are like Ben. And what that means in relation to love is that most people choose their lovers on how conducive their partner is to their life they have created in their head, in the future. Further, it means that people like Ben are destined to a life of disappointment, because when you live in the future you become stagnate, and life and love do not thrive in stagnate waters. I choose my lovers not by our compatibility in the future but by how they make me feel in the present.
I do not think by any means, that by me not having a plan and choosing unconventional lovers, that I have done myself any great homage, but I do think that the paths of love that I have followed led me to a type of love more powerful that your typical relationship. I'm not saying that most people will never love or have not loved as immensely as I have, but something devastating and beautiful and profound happens when you love crazy. For instance, living with Aaron in a cocaine den with a transsexual whore as a roommate wasn't exactly a recipe for a healthy relationship but we loved each other. Aaron and I were two people thrown into the world with no plan and for a year we shielded each other from collapsing under the weight of such a gross uncertainty.
Something beautiful happened wen I fell in love with a psychotic alcoholic. Instead of sheltering each other, I gave my everything in order to shelter him. I once found Justin behind a dumpster outside of the porn store he worked out crying because he knew I was going to leave him. He begged me not to give up on him and as I held him in my arms rocking him and kissing his head knew that I wasn't going to leave. I needed him to need me and he needed to love. I realize now that perhaps I mistook extraordinary potential with love, but it felt a lot like love and it opened my eyes. It gave me insights about life, love, substance abuse and of myself.
I guess that's why I write; to reveal those insights.
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