A Few Words On Love And Loss
Sunday, February 10, 2013 at 3:00PM

Love is not mythical, or magical. It doesn't appear for no reason, and it doesn't go away for no reason either. When one love goes away, you haven't lost your one shot at it. In my brief time falling in and out of love, the one thing that I am absolutely sure of is the endless capacity for love. One love does not need to be compared to another, one love CANNOT be compared to another. Books and movies have the entire planet running on the notion that for some reason, even if you don't consciously believe in soulmates, in the back of your mind you still think you would KNOW when someone is right for you. Nostalgia begins to run in montage reels. Clips of memories; all the reasons why you were meant to be together; all the terrible times that should point to the opposite, but somehow has you believing even stronger that it was meant to be, because you worked for it, you know?

We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It’s easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven’t even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.

Chuck Klosterman - Killing Yourself To Live: 80% Of A True Story

Those stories of childhood sweethearts who get married young and stay happily married and tell you that they knew, instantly? I can assure you, their relationship went through just as much theatrics, it just ended up working out. Stop anyone in a happy relationship in the street, and they can tell you that they "instantly knew", catch them when it all falls apart and who knows what the story would be. Memory does that to you.

Losing love feels just that, losing. And you can either be a gracious player, shake hands and say "better luck next time.", or you can be a child, and demand a rematch with the same player. You think of all the mistakes you made, you tell yourself you will fix them; "This time I can make it better, this time I can make it work. This time I won't fuck it up." And if you're not given the opportunity to try again, you repeatedly go over those mistakes, again, and again, and again. By this stage you're not trying to save love, you're trying to conquer it. It's all bullshit. Misery is easy, letting go is hard.

This is to tell all the little girls and boys out there. Let it go. That's the only way the next person can hope to get in there. And I promise you, there will be a next person. Loving is incredibly easy, if you are willing to love. Learn to be a gracious loser.

Article originally appeared on Looking Glass - Alice Qin (http://riceingenue.com/).
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