I should be cursing you all.
I think I want to talk about love. It's been almost three months since I've even thought seriously about it, which is to be expected, I suppose.
I know a lot about love, for several reasons. For one, I've studied it, part of my course in the study of humanity and all living creatures. And, of course, having been in love myself, it became imperative upon me to understand it, not that that helped me at all mind you, but I do know love.
The first time was Amanda Russell.
It was 3rd grade. I was only eight years old. Precocious child that I was, there are limits. For one, I was an apathist, as I am now, as I have been for much longer than I can remember. I suppose my parents loved me, and my brother, but I neither knew nor cared. None of you who know me now would have known this boy. Chris the child did not see people, people were, all in all, far less important than any of a number of other things he had to do.
I had no idea what love was. I had no concrete concept to apply, but the moment I saw her, I knew I loved her...totally, completely, hopelessly.
And, of course, I blew it. Going from apathist, and in fact disregard for all of humanity and anything else that didn't directly present itself for my study, to one of the most intense emotional experiences possible, is not a small matter. Not at all.
But that isn't the reason I blew it, or not the only reason. I am as much a passive as I am an active. I passively tried to attract her to me that entire year. I befriended her, and with Jay Wheeler we made a relatively close knit group of three, as close knit as you can be with classmates this early in life. Which, depending, can be very, very close, or barely acquantances. Before this I'd rarely had friends, rarely found people I thought it worth talking with. But I loved her, so I altered my perspective, in the hopes of understanding her better, of understanding others better, of figuring out exactly what it was I was going through, what I needed to do.
As it turns out, I'm a coward. I can't handle fear. You see, fear isn't an emotion, but I've never been readily susceptible to it. I'm not brave, I just don't feel fear. Nothing scares me.
The very idea of telling Amanda how I felt terrified me. Just the thought, and I could barely breathe.
And so the year passed, and we went to different schools, and I lost her. I didn't understand how completely until years later.
You've heard me mention how unreliable my memory is?
I've tried. Tried every possible technique, from force to relaxation and anything in between. I simply can't remember anything about Mandy. I don't remember what she looked like, hair color, eye color, form, figure, nothing. I don't know what her favorite color was, what she liked to do, what her voice sounded like, or anything. I can't remember her laughing, or talking, or walking, or anything.
The only thing I have is her name, and the love I've always felt for her.
Even years later, that hurt. There is no greater pain than the pain of absolute loss. I've been rejected, and it's nothing compared to this. Even losing her to death or distance would have been less painful if I could remember anything at all.
But it doesn't hurt anymore. I no longer love her, anymore than I love anyone. I remember the love, I remember the loss, I remember the pain, but I feel none of it. Not because I'm incapable of the feeling (apathy doesn't mean you're incapable of feeling, only that it isn't your natural state), I simply don't.
Even years later, whenever I heard of someone named Amanda, I always asked what their last name was, on the off chance.... I still do. Force of habit I guess, not that I know what I'd say if I found her (and damnit, I tried so hard when I cared), not now without love to drive me.
My third grade class.
There is little I remember.
A few names, our teacher,
my friends...
And you.
Mainly you.
My mind gives me pictures,
of you laughing,
of you playing,
of you working.
Memories of seating arrangements,
how we never sat together.
All these memories pierce the fog of the past
on a light of love,
Yet nowhere,
in my mind or outside of it,
can I find a picture of your face.
Every image, in my mind,
is clear as crystal,
yet never can I see you.
My timidity,
has taken you from me,
forever,
as the last fragments
of my shattered memories of you
hit the line of time
becoming smaller,
and smaller,
until their existence
is gone.
I'd say it only got worse from there, but as I mentioned, it doesn't get worse than that. I know, I've experience all sorts of pain as a result of love, and nothing compares to the overwhelming ache of knowing you've lost something that means everything to you.
But I understand love, better than nearly anyone. The wonders of objectivity. Yay.
So I do believe in love at first sight. Hard to deny such a defining experience.
I'm a romantic though. I'm not sure how that came about.
I can't think of any other guy, straight or gay, who has kept a list of potential baby names since junior high. And that's perhaps one of the least of my romantic fancies, almost all of which I indulge because, well, why not.
Six months ago this entry would have had me in tears. Fascinating.
I know. I'm sorry.
recent...
2000-10-03 - Love Lives: Amanda Russell
2000-10-02 - Larin Bladespinner
2000-10-02 - More praise for my ever impressive talent.
2000-09-29 - I don't know.
2000-09-28 - The one where I don't know if I'm dying or just going insane.
Step Back ---/// Take a Step ///--- End of the Path