Love Letters

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I think the phrase ‘to fall in love’ is a lie. I think we soar in love. I think we expand and change and grow. Being in love increases your capacity for love itself. The bandwidth increases. There’s nothing about that which feels like falling.

I hope joy is no stranger to you. Even if you are a stranger to me. Even if we never meet, never know one another, I hope that wrinkles appear around your mouth because you’ve spent a great deal of your time smiling. Why wouldn’t we want that for each other?

Bad days happen, and the internet says things like ‘you’ve survived every bad day so far,’ which is true. But does nothing to quell the despair when you’re in it, beyond, I suppose, the assurance that it will pass, like all the other times. We’re reluctant to believe it, but truth doesn’t need our belief to remain.

Good memories sting. This is a good thing.

I’ll always cherish how it feels to fall in love, even if it couldn’t last. Tiny moments. Fractures of time that end up being the whole point. What a gorgeous pain it becomes. Grief is love’s endurance. It may change and flower in unexpected, new, ways, but it remains. It always remains.