The Four Letter Word

Love. A simple four letter word I'm sometimes ashamed to admitt keeps me up tossing and turning at night. I'm sure it's a safe bet that there are some out there that would slowly nod their heads in agreement upon hearing this. It's usually either because we've had it, we've lost it, or worst of all we're still searching still longing. Even when we claim that we aren't looking for anything "special", we can safely admitt to ourselves that we do hope. Some say the right person, and the right situation finds us when we lease expect it. Is this true? Are we supposed to fix our hair and wear a cute outfit in high hopes that the person in front of us buying a caramel macchiato could be what we've been searching for all along? Love. A simple four letter word, yet think of the complexity of it. Think of how it's shaped our lives and the world we live in. Think of all the novels, all the songs, and even that one special day dedicated to it in February.
There are different types of love of course. Sometimes we fail to realize this when we're without the one that flashes around us almost mockingly so. Sometimes I am guilty of assuming my life is loveless because I'm without the one type that leaves my head spinning and my heart swelling. It would be a lie. I take a deep breath look around and realize that I'm one of those fourtunate few who can say my life is filled with it. I've got that wonderful group of friends whom I love and trust. How rare is it that you find people who can see you at your best, your worst, know all your flaws and still value your friendship...My family life is healthy for the most part, and I've learned there will always be someone out there who struggles less, and someone else who struggles more. And in the end I suppose I'm thankful for the greatest thing of all, learning that I pocess the ability to love...
We grew up hearing “It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” We heard this line movies, listened to older supposedly ‘wiser people’ say it, and even read about it in books. But does this make it true? Do we just decide to believe this or do we wait for that moment where we have lost the one we love and then make up our minds… I am guilty of loving someone with all of my heart and then proceeding to have it fall into pieces. Ironically enough there is beauty in breaking your own heart, it isn’t simply the fact that you get to put the pieces back together and make it even stronger than it was. The beauty is in realizing that you are capable of loving another human being, despite their faults, the way they mess with your head, and their inability or flat out refusal to tell you exactly how they feel. You love them. And for better or for worse you just want them to be happy, even if it isn’t with you, although you can’t help but hope. And maybe aside from hope you make a mixed tape, write a letter, and wear your hair down to help improve the odds. Some may say this is the greatest realization of all.
Once in a while when life becomes almost too unbearble, I find myself in my room with the swells of an old favorite. I'm sure to chose something no one listens to anymore. In those moments I sway to the to the classical peice or an oldie, Louie armstong's "la vien en rose" is a favorite. I close my eyes, stand on my tip-toes, put my hands up and dance. Pretend I'm in a diferent time, when choices weren't as difficult, were life was simpler, where someone would ask you to dance to a piece of music with no words, and you would hold each other as if nothing else mattered. I take a deep breath, and I realize im okay, I'm still here, and even though it sometimes hurts to be dancing alone, I'm grateful to hear the music.