Tuesday, July 31, 2007

but i love you

What does it say about me that I wasn't surprised to hear it? Am I supposed to feel this disquiet when someone I care about tells me he loves me? Love is such a fickle feeling; I don't trust it; not one little bit. I know he loves me. I've known for a while, haven't I? Only the statement in the head is formed more like this: He believes he loves me.
I know about believing things true making them stunningly so. Once you believe, every lie is true. I know this better than most people I know.
I still think I need to hear it, though, this lie. Why else do I try so hard to make people feel it? It is a game, is it then, O T? You reel them in and then spit them out? You collect the declarations and grade them to find the ones that are the most true? I see rows of little loves like pearls with neat card labels up on dusty bookcases. Break through all their barriers, you will, until they say it, and then there is really no more use for them, is there?

Oh, say it isn't so.
Because I do love them, I do. I could say "I love you" and not be ashamed to say it. (and I have, haven't I? "I love you". It feels like nothing else one says, and the first time is the hardest time, but every time it still feels like so much to say it)
Only, what does it mean to be able to say it to so many people?
What does it mean to say it at all?
So far it's only two.
Only. I say it as though boys fall in love with me all the time. Though the other way around happens often enough to comment on.

What happens when this fades away?

1 comment:

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