#692

A Love

I don't know why I picked it.
It wasn't my usual kind:
it just seemed the thing to do
(maybe I felt sorry for it).

But it fitted in place
and it worked
when I tried it with you.

So, I think I'll keep it.
But I don't know what to call it.


28 August 1989
 
 

There’re certain words (at least for me) that jump out at you. The two most significant in my life have been ‘truth’ and ‘love’. Some would say they’re connected, related even; people do talk about being honest about their feelings. I find that very hard because words are not designed with honesty in mind; numbers, yes—mostly. This is all stuff I’ve talked about many times before. Not that talking’s helped. I’m still no closer to understanding love. I think possibly I’m just not very good at it. Or maybe it’s simply harder than it looks. (See what I mean about words! How can something be simple and hard at the same time?) Did I love B.? I loved being with her. But that’s not ‘love love’ is it? I loved F. but she clearly wasn’t enough. Or had stopped being enough; needs change. There’re lots of loves, we know that, which is why I use ‘a’ here rather than ‘the’ but I’m not convinced I’ve ever felt the same love for any two individuals. And maybe that’s the way it is for everyone and the books lied to us. Well, of course they did.