People usually originate from two schools of thought – the first in that everything happens for a reason. The second, that we make our own fate.
I don’t know what I think. I don’t know what I feel. I think that sometimes I like to think that our lives are what we make of them – that our own fate and our own work within our lives dictate the very outcome that we so desire.
And then I stop and think about that philosophy and turn my back on the idea – because shit happens that is beyond our control. Sometimes the unexpected becomes the expected. Sometimes there is absolutely no way to avoid that things simply happen. To avoid things are beyond our control is absolutely inevitable. Like death. Like life. Like love.
Love can take form in very different ways. Love can be the love of a child, the love of a friend, or the love shared between two people that is unbreakable. There is a bond, a connection – something more powerful than can be recognized. Something so powerful, but unseen. That is love. That feeling you get in your chest when you ache because they ache. That feeling you get in your core when you want what they want, even if its something that you never even thought about wanting before in your life.
Everything happens for a reason, or everything is the fate that you make it – but whatever you decide upon, love is an important part of life. The love of a friend, especially. The love of your life, absolutely.
I’ve been dealing with this inner struggle lately – I feel like all the people I love move away, and then I’m stuck here holding onto them, and they are continuing on without me. And not that it’s their fault. In fact, by no means is it their fault. It’s mine. I’ve been stuck here, digging myself through school, and they’ve had opportunities to move forward. And that’s awesome. A little part of me is becoming nervous because I feel like, through their leaving and adventures, I’m being forgotten about. That I’ve become insignificant to people who I’ve been holding onto. Or perhaps it’s not an insignificance, moreover, just less important.
I made a friend this summer. A once in a life time friend, and she’s moving in a week to another city. My two friends from moved last summer. My boyfriend is leaving in the summer. And I’m scared. I’m scared that through all of this, one by one, people are going to leave and I’m going to be even less significant than I was when I was with them.
Loving people is hard. And that’s what I do. I have a different kind of love for each kind of person – I love my friends differently than from the way I love Jac. I love my parents differently. Etc. Love is a very hard emotion, because loving someone also means that you’re just that much more easily hurt by them. It’s part of life. It’s how it grows. It’s how we grow. It’s life.