Dear Diary, TIME IS AN ILLUSION
December 22nd, 2022
I don’t ever want to lose her. But I know that to cling this tightly—to insist I ride the wave of bliss forever is to give up on what love does. Love is supposed to set us free. Love allows us—asks us—to become all that we were meant to be. Love does not deny hardship, it looks it in the eye. Love does not pretend it can’t get or be lost—it acknowledges life’s impermanence, making it richer, more sweet, more full. To deny that love can only ever be delivered in one way, through one person, one conduit is to deny all the ways in which love shows up. If I shrink back in fear of change, I rob myself of the chance of experiencing what love has for me right now, in this moment. If I shrink back in fear of the inevitable end, I may rob myself of the chance of experiencing the deep intimacy that waits for us on the other side of boredom, a fight, or really any crack that threatens my attachments to what I secretly want love to be: something that lasts forever.