On Love

I was once asked to write about love. A philosophical question, really. He asked not what is love? But rather, "what is love to you?" 
It's funny, because I'm a hopeless romantic. I love love. Yet, I had no idea how to respond to his question. 

I loved him. 
Yes, loved. Past tense. Maybe still present, but him and I are over...not that we were ever official to begin with, but feelings were deep. Deeper than any of my real relationships.
I haven't spoken about him much. Maybe hinted about him from time to time, but nothing so openly as other things in my life. But, it's been 4 months since we last spoke and I'm still hurting. I suppose I should tell you his name, but apart of me wants to keep that to myself. Instead, I'll call him L.

Fuckboys. No, not a verb and a noun. I meant "fuckboys," the new term which literally means how it sounds. They are the new men of this generation that do whatever it takes to fuck a girl, and then when they get what they want, they ghost* you.

L isn't a fuckboy. I just wanted to clarify. Now that L is no longer in my life, I'm dating. I suppose I've been dating on and off for the past three years and for those past three years all I see are fuckboys. Everywhere. And maybe that's why I can't answer the question. Because I don't believe in love anymore.

I did at one point in time, because I loved him. I loved him with my whole heart. I envisioned a life with him and for once, I felt a sense of peace. A sense of safety. A place to call home? Is that what real love is? Is that what that is supposed to feel like?

I loved others before L, but to me this one was different. This one was deeper than physicality or lust. It was refreshing. I was known.

Now it's over, and I'm even more lost than before. Because I thought I had it, right there in the palms of my hands. I thought I had everything. I thought that life had meaning.

Dating seems pointless, but I do it anyway. To get out of my head, to get over L, to do something different. But all it does is make me realize how much I don't love love. And as much as I yearn for it, I've lost the ability to believe that it truly exists.

So maybe that's what love is to me. Something that might not exist.

*Ghost you - quietly disappearing and never talking to you ever again because they don't give a fuck. 

2017

Like everyone else, I have been reflecting over the past year and wondering what 2017 will entail. I feel like a new year shouldn't be a clean slate, but rather a dirtier one. Each experience adds another speck of dirt, another ring around a tree trunk, another star in the sky. I want my life to grow and expand from those experiences; the good ones and the bad. Every year is a foundation but every day is a chance. A chance to be different, to be kinder, smarter, better.
This picture is my favorite from 2016. Some days will be bad. Some days will feel like theres no purpose but oh how life brings you wonderful, beautiful moments like this one that brings back a spontaneous night of venturing out into the darkest of places and being among the stars. And that's a memory you don't forget.