I get drunk despite the hangover. I eat ice cream despite the stomachache. I put my heart on the line despite the emotional fallout. There is many an action with a less than fruitful outcome. And yet, we choose these actions time and again.
It’s not about it being worth it. It’s about the fact that it might be the only chance you get. As I get older, as I experience more, I see the consequences more easily. I know the stove will burn me, I know the boy will hurt me. They say the young are fearless, but I’d rather be brave. To dive into something with no regard for the consequences is not insignificant, but to predict, recognize, and prepare for all possible consequences and still charge on is something to marvel at, something to aspire to.
When seeking guidance, the most preached advice is often the tamest. To guard yourself, to prevent the damage. But when your house has already burned and you made it out alive, there is less fear in the flames. There is an acknowledgement, a courage.
Three commiserators sat on the couch last night and talked about the most embarrassing truth of love, that sometimes it happens for no reason, too quickly, without safety net, without care, but to deny yourself the opportunity to fall can feel worse than the crash at the bottom.
He doesn’t have to be the one. He doesn’t have to be everything. But to feel my heart race over something it wants rather than something it fears is such sweet revery.
So rather than listening to advice, to avoiding the poison, I choose the future comfort of friends and the endless miles of pavement I can run to repair my broken heart. It’s been broken before, and it’ll be broken again, but just for a little while, just for those moments I close my eyes and breathe, it beats to the rhythm of hope.
When morning comes, I will prepare for the day like it belongs to you. I’ll comb my hair, and I’ll rouge my lips. Slip on the bracelets, the rings, the stockings. Line my eyes, put on my heels. Open my lungs to the crisp winter air. My steps will be confident and my chin will be high. And even if you give me nothing, you’ve given me something better: you’ve given me the assurance that my capacity to love has not only not diminished, but has grown and blossomed. I have not grown jaded with time. I have not grown tired and weary. Knowing plainly the truths and the consequences hasn’t made me reluctant, it has made me brave. And for that, I will always be grateful. And as long as I have something to give, I will give it my all.
