The lonely one offers his hand too quickly to whomever he encounters
Whenever I am asked to write about the topic of love, the response is abruptly no. I cannot fathom the idea. Painted red, dubbed by romance and goodness of the will to see the thrill of admiration, lust, beauty and time just to show that “true” love cannot rust. It maybe cliché to say but it is an idea I do not entirely trust, I see love nothing more than a cusp of whatever your being brings to the table. Love is not something so stable, where we all reach and preach its benevolence. It is an idea thrust into the expectations of Humanity, artistically spun by too many ideas we know. It is nothing so simple to be defined in an article or lived within moments, maybe a lifetime as well as reflection will make you truly notice what love has done to and for you.
I watched an interesting documentary a few months ago, Human. It started with the task of defining love throughout our World of many faces, analysing the concept by many places. The most captivating was in English, where I could sense the rhythm of speech and could almost dissect the feeling of this man offering us an explanation of what love can do. He described growing up accustomed to the idea of pain being smothering, violent love, how much he could take from his abusive step Father shattered our usually comforting conception of the idea. Every beating was fuelled by the idea of it hurting his step Father more than him, claiming “I only did it because I love you”. This instilled a notion of measuring love by how much pain one could take from him.
He stated imprisonment made him realise what love really was, as this environment was devoid of it. What he was imprisoned for was the murder of a Mother and her Child. It was their Mother and Grandmother that offered this man love, not hate for the great pain he caused. Brought to tears you could see the dejection within this man’s soul, for it not his explanation he could be dubbed truly evil. In this scenario, the rights to the idea of love we mostly share was key to the destruction of this Human being. Love was imprisoned before he was. There were many examples of the idea of love in this documentary, some more disturbing than what I just explained. However what was framed was the different avenues of love, and I want to touch upon it from an example just like above.
Love is not so fixed on a select few for me, I argue I do not admire people so much until I have a little love for them. It is evident as in my loneliness only a few can bring me above misery. When my mind was literally killing me and anxiety had a firm grasp of my neck, a hug from a family member or true friend swept the abysmal slate of my mind clean. I would think about these people in my dreams, building them up to be saviours of my sanity. I did not realise what I was doing, creating a situation of dependency around those I claimed to have love for. My brethren and sisters, Stormtroopers policing my rebellious thoughts. I gave them that authority, catching myself between succumbing to their ideals and clearing my head to understand why it kept knocking, putting me off reality.
It has reached a point I cannot trust myself to be reasonable, despite all the great achievements I have accomplished. Leaving it to the wayward drive of my mind and the therapy of those I mildly love shoved my confidence to the brink. It almost all left me, as my self-assurance was constructed by those smiles and praises, seemingly reasonable advice and the realisation that these people should be here for life. So in my youth, the truth was I let my friends and loved ones host my soul. My definition of the soul ultimately being the disposition that turns your will. I feel I allowed them too much of a say, the time I was supposed to be concentrating on me I released for this luxury of love by friendship. The question is, where are they all now? The ones who I accepted criticism and artistic peer pressure from, is our relationship even going strong?
A few nods and an odd conversation or two, reminiscing and remembering moments of being a tool. Only a few actually schooled me on following my dreams, whilst others agendas were more harmful than harmonious. Banter breaks beings who otherwise their comfortable settings in a group of friends, may be suffering behind their outwardly joyful presence. It is not that deep, some will say – because those moments are all they have or want to show. What I wanted to know is how I was without any influence of those I apparently loved. I managed to understand this all a bit more when I was kicked out of school, given 7 months to dwell alone. Expecting those excitable faces to show, but they never did. Not many checked for me, they thought I was all done and dusted. The naughty unfathomable child cannot be trusted.
Almost a decade later, the detriments of allowing my “loved” ones to impose on me and dictate what my troublesome head cannot are still clear. I was lonely and offered my hand to those who wanted to grab it, strung along into deeper depths of madness. Though I became accustomed to blame, I noticed I am almost immune to pain. Except it is truly excruciating when a friend tries to hurt me, they have been given a plug to the gloves able to hurt me. As my admiration for them defeated any form of arrogance, offers me humility. Though is this real, true, if I allow my loved ones the key to belittle me? I feel now I am entirely reasonable, to deduce this demonic feeling within and identify the areas of concern regarding my life.
Is this so selfish to make a commentary of love, in regards to how it affects me but not describe how I offer it or see it entirely. My love is extensive, the damage I take and accumulate can be expressed as pure hate and anger. But it vanishes when I realise I must be there for a friend, I hope my words are so soothing and never destructive enough to make a grave impact on another’s life. My loving advice or presence never aims to destroy, even if a friend employ’s an idea I do not agree with. This reminded me of the faith my Parents attempted to instil within me, maybe I do hold to some Christian concepts.
Luke 6:31 – Treat others the same way you want them to treat you.
A simplistic idea, not so poetic but as moral if debated as the greatest Philosopher’s inquiry. This lesson of mild love in reference to friendship, I no longer want it to harm me. I must adapt and undo, soon to only offer love to those who truly deserve my soothe