Love is a Funny Thing

Sometimes it comes like the falling of snow, gentle and quiet. Other times it is a blazing inferno that burns everything in its wake, but underneath it all, buried deep in the ashes, seedlings remain. The hope for new growth, and new life.

I’ve seen it all. Breakups and makeups. Marriages that last for a minute, and  marriages that last for a lifetime. Love lost, love gained…toxic love. On the sidelines, I have watched relationships be born, and  I have watched them die.  I am no stranger to love —though I have little experience with it.

But, perhaps love is not something that can be learned, or understood, through second-hand experience. As someone who pursues knowledge whenever, and wherever, I can this is something that bothers me to the core.

You see, my love I cannot classify or understand. It follows no rules, it knows no boundaries or reason—it just endures. Even after all these years, even after the tears, the distance—and his silence. My love remains a secret ember burning brightly in the center of my soul.

I’ve tried, and tried, and tried again to forget him to no avail. Everyday,  I lie to myself that I have moved on in the hopes that one day it will become true.

The worst part about this narrative is that like Eponine, I love him …but only on my own.

What does this say about me I wonder? Probably nothing good. But, before you judge I would remind you that love is not love only when it is returned. We are all capable of love, but only a few of us are lucky enough to be loved in return.

I am one of the unlucky ones.

Still, this part I have grown to accept. What I cannot understand is that why, when I’ve seen love fade so quickly, mine simply refuses to be put out.

I’m a romantic—but I am not naive enough to believe that if I just wait maybe someday he will love me back. He’s made it pretty clear that he does not, and in all likelihood, will not love me back.

Still, he remains the best part of me. My heart aches for him across the thousands of miles that separate us. I let him go because love is not something you should force, but my stubborn heart refuses to renounce him.

In my own quiet, unassuming way, I continue to love him. When I met him I was just a girl, and now that I am a woman reaching the end of my 26th year, I fear that, at least for me, there will be no one else.

~Ink Me In


Unfulfilled Desires


I wish I was as brave as you, traveler, able to go where I please, to do what I want—a carefree explorer of this beautiful planet we call home. I wish I was brave like you, so I too, could get lost in the crowd, maybe meet some special people, nomads a long way from home. Maybe we could have been lost together. We could have walked the streets at night, a little drunk, singing songs in our mother tongues between bursts of intoxicated laughter.At the end of the night we probably would have run out of money, but we would be rich in experiences. I might not be artistic, but I could try my hand at street art, or even —if blessed by the muses—compose a poem or two (though they might not be that good). There is very little I would not do, if I was brave like you.

If I had even half the bravery you do, I could easily strike up conversations with adventurous strangers like yourself. Perhaps I could go with them to the mountains, or go cliff diving. I could camp out under the stars in the desert, never mind that I don’t know how to pitch a tent, I’m a fast learner -just point me in the right direction.  I could spend the night away dancing in a crowd of strangers, body swaying, sweat trickling down my neck in carefree droplets, alone but in that moment connected…to humanity. Most of all I could wake up every morning to the gentle touch of the sunrise kissing my lips in greeting. I could behold the wonders of the world and ponder on the mysteries of space.

But, I am not brave. I do not have the ability to jump on a plane without a plan and with no destination—however much I may want to. There is little room for spontaneity in my orderly and chaotic 9-5 life. There are after all, bills to be paid and mouths to be fed.

It is not wonders I see, but the same old gray walls and tired faces. Rather than the tranquility of nature and the excitement of adventure, fear and regret are my wake-up calls.

Indeed traveler, I can only hope that one day I will be brave like you.

~Ink Me In