You find something that binds you together and makes you infinite. They say a life is nothing without a career, it’s not substantial without those digital dollar capsules and of course the earth is small when you don’t own enough land to hold the amount of materials obtained throughout the occupied hobby of ‘collect and disregard.’
We don’t mourn money or material as much as we do a human being. So how is it that we spend so much time infatuated with the possibilities of obtaining rather than appreciating our creators, the created and the ones we can procreate with? We can talk about common beliefs, other people and their craziness and squareness. We can disagree, fight it out and it doesn’t solve a thing, we stumble around, make mistakes, hurt each other terribly and grow older. We will travel back to our parties and discuss our bias opinions like diplomats with people who agree with our breath. Human rituals, our ‘otherness’ based on shared interests and desires. The glue that holds you together is the combination of elements like brains, creativity or work ethic. I can dissect this and leave it flayed and quivering on the table, so it’s no longer that magical ephemeral thing, just a set of carefully described set of behaviors.
We always talk about that gaping hole, the bitter taste over a disappearance, that absence, the emptiness carved into you and waiting to be filled. I believe that when you die you get to see yourself through the eyes of everyone you ever interacted with, and, depending on your behavior, this could be heaven or hell. Imagine how beautiful you are in the eyes of each and how entirely different.
Could it be true, that you can feel so connected to someone enough that you can sense denial? It can drive you to do things you never thought were possible. Remember shoveling that pen in your young sweaty palms, engraving the words of hatred, seeming vicious and unthoughtful since it eventually turns to scribbled, jabbing movements, tears and hair pulling. Doubting that you would ever send such nastiness to the one you love. Thinking that you wouldn’t ever want anyone you love witnessing you in a phase of craziness or visualizing heart-broken insanity. No matter how many times you convince yourself that you are in love, if you can’t imagine a future, don’t push the point.
At what point in time do we grow, meet new people, start new projects, experiment with music and literature? Or just that time to spend on your own and come home to the one you love with a new story, a new friend, a new point of interest? It can never be such a great idea to marry an extension of yourself, but to be with someone that behaves like you emotionally, that understands your needs and desires because they have that yearning desire, that hunger to be understood is fulfilled. Becoming each other in the ways of finding unison. Laughing, forgiving, crying, love-making, taboo-fucking, sloppy kissing. Doesn’t sound like such a bad idea when you can finally find peace in a human who doesn’t need an explanation to why you exist, they already know.
You have found someone with whom a particular part of you emerges, the part of you that doesn’t have to guess, that relinquishes all thoughts of coupling with different men or women, the part of you who can imagine one person, forever.