I wonder if the universal human experience isn't one of love at all, but one of suffering. I know I've experienced many different kinds of love, the love of family, romantic love, the love of a pet, the love of spirit and yet I do not know if others experience it in just the same way as I. Suffering seems so much simpler to understand, even though there are so many shades of suffering as well. These days I'm likely to say (and believe) that suffering is only a state of mind, that people are actually able to suffer less if they only put their mind to it. But I digress. (I think I digressed, but then again maybe not, this is a story of suffering love, perhaps I'm just looking for a proper segue, so I guess that wasn't really a digression, though this certainly was.)
I have a dilemma now. There are huge holes in my memory and I don't know if I should embellish what's missing or just talk about what I do remember. All my life I've had this uncanny ability (or perhaps affliction) to forget all the bad and retain all the good experiences in life. Except when the good is wrapped up in the bad, the good gets lost as well. This is just a dime-a-dozen story of heartbreak, the catalyst for a million songs, so I think I'll just stick to what I can remember. I do not remember our first kiss, nor any sex at the beginning (I know there was lots and LOTS, but can't remember it) though I do remember thinking at one point that we had spent 14 nights in a row together and that I wished it never to end. I remember wishing I could put John in a little box and only take him out when I was home, but that probably stemmed from my sensing my feelings were stronger than his. Truth is I don't really want to remember all this, but since I've already started, I may as well get it out.
It was John who said, "I love you" first. This I remember, after about a week, us cruising down Pacific Coast Highway in my Triumph Spitfire convertible when he turned and said, "I think I'm falling in love with you Tornwordo." It was then that I let myself go, gave myself over to my intense desire for him, wild unimaginable feelings of love, joy, and their evil sisters, distrust and possessiveness. I simply evaporated and in my place became a John worshipper, putting aside all his wants in order to please him, doing only what he thought he wanted. Looking back, I'm surprised it only took four months before it all came crashing down. I'll tell you about that soon.
(Is it wrong to post pictures of dead people?)
25 comments:
No it isn't wrong to post a picture of a dead person.
I cant wait for the next chapter!
As per usual I fascinated and captured by your prose. There was much in "chapter 2" that struck me, but one thing above all others: "...wild unimaginable feelings of love, joy, and their evil sisters, distrust and possessiveness." How well you nail that on the head! It is a tricky business to truly love someone without becoming possessive and allowing our insecurities to incubate distrust. As I reflect on my own loves and crushes, I have to admit that I was both the purveyor and the object of those evil sisters.
great story... i had a spitfire that i got for my 16th birthday... that car has so many memories attached... mine was canary yellow... and what a cutie john was!!! the speedo part from yesterday reminded me of my first crush, Tad!!
Man, you are a captivating storyteller! Reading this, I'm remembering stuff I haven't thought about in years....
Anxiously awaiting the next part, although it feels kinda of intrustive and rude to be waiting to hear about someone else's bad memories....
HUGS...
"Truth is I don't really want to remember all this"
There are a lot of things we don't want to remember. And most of the time we forget, until something inside decides that it's time to deal with it.
This is the writer I remember. This is why I was drawn to you.
I understand but sad at what never happened.
friendship
Ok, I thought that kind of stuff only happened in the movies. I'm jealous and I know that that's wrong.
Great writing btw.
Remembrance is the best way to pay some respect to the dead. Foibles and all. No matter what the outcome is [obviously not good] would you really change your life not to have experienced this small part of life with him? I've made monumental mistakes in my day and wish I would have chosen and better path, but don't regret them.
kb
I'm hooked..poor you
re. photo, no
I have found that when relationships are over, it's not the end that is hard to explain or remember. Rather, we have trouble understanding and recalling the beginning.
I've heard that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I don't know what it is like to love someone but I do know what it is like to live my whole life without love.
He was a hottie no wonder you fell so hard.
i dont think its ever wrong to remember someone that touched your life.
I think it's great that you're writing about this. I know you say you have this swiss-cheese memory, but I think there is intention in it. You know, there's nothing so awful, it can't be avoided, kinda thinking?
Good for you.
And, memories, whether good or not, help us figure out who we are right now.
Experience (sometimes) teaches us how to balance love with other emotions, which is probably why our first taste of love leaves such scars: a lack of balance. Being so consumed by love that you would throw away your self for another; that is a dangerous existence.
Is this going to make me cry?
was this your first love?
Memory is not an unalloyed blessing.
The intenser degrees of passion cannot be totally divorced from fear and jealousy, sadly. The best we mere mortals can do is to manage such feelings wisely until our love ceases to boil uncontrollably and quiets to a simmer.
Such a beautiful post, Torn. Thank you.
Unless he has an estate that would object, I don't see any wrong in posting his picture, especially if it's a picture that belongs to you. This sounds like a more complex story than I initially imagined. I may need to eat my words from yesterday's comment.
He looks very handsome.
Memory is a tricky thing. Some would say we choose to forget the bad -which can be true. But sometimes, I also think the brain helps us along, masking those terribles times like a band-aid.
I loss my father when I was 5 1/2, and to this day, I can really memner nothing form my first 10 years. The memories of my father are very suspect; I don't know what is real or what was placed there by family.
If we could wrap pain up in a blanket and just toss it away, well, then while we would be happy, it is what makes us human.
I look forward to your next chapter. I've got the tissues ready, for I know I'm going to cry.
Peace.
visiting by way of Enemy of the Republic (commented on your 100 Things as well).
i don't think anything's wrong with posting pics of people who are not alive. honoring their life and memory is like a celebration. especially if it's someone who impacted you or this world in a positive way.
I become a John-worshipper when I drink too much the night before or when I get ahold of some bad Chinese food.
I adore the way you are writing this. Really nicely open.
It's very cool to see a picture of him too. Such a pretty boy. It made me smile to see him again.
My teenage years were a lot of fun and I remember a lot. The years from 19 - 25 weren't so hot. I don't have a lot of memories good or bad. Dickeybird always comes out with a story involving me and half the time I have no idea what he's talking about. It's like a vague reflection in a fog. I don't get it. I wish I remembered more.
Can't wait to hear more of the story.
This is so beautifully written, I can "feel" your words. I think that the wild joy of love always dances on the edge of pain. It has that same ability to dissolve the heart into suffering ... to cry with its pangs.
Aching to read more...
I missed a day of the blog and I'm so happy, cause I don't have to wait a day for the next chapter. Maybe I planned it that way...
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