The Lovelorn

Some people have never experienced, and will never experience, love, either of the body or of the soul. Some people just aren't fortunate enough to have experienced romance. At least, I think they're the unfortunate ones. I happen to be one of them.

But of course, that requires that you equate love with romance...

Some of us experience different sorts. Most people are fortunate enough to at least experience familial love - that undying, unconditional love given by one's parents. It is at once precious because you know that they'll always love you, no matter what. And at the same time, too easily forgotten for the very fact that it *isn't* conditional. Even this kind of love cannot be taken for granted; some of the worst pain in the world must be felt by the people whose parents actually do not love them. It's not something that most of us like to face every day, but there are people out there who have no love for their parents and vice-versa. I can't imagine what that's like, nor do I want to.

There's true friendship - that's a kind of love also. I've never experienced romantic love, and I believe myself much the poorer for the lack of such experience - it really does leave one feeling quite hollow - but of friends, I have no shortage. This is not mere acquaintance-friendship, either - some of these people love me like a brother, as a role-model (how frightening is that?), as an equal - sometimes all at once. It's kind of odd, but some of the same people who see me as sort of a mentor, like me all the more for the fact that I treat them as absolute equals. That they can ask me for advice or pat me on the head, depending on the context. I guess that's wherein lies the symbiosis... there are some things in this life I'm really good at, and at least as many, if not more, at which I'm hopelessly inept. We help each other.

There's also the most wretched sort of love - the unrequited variety. This kind is no gift at all. It's pure, cosmic spite - it's life laughing at you. And it's nobody's fault - one of the problems about romantic love is that frequently, it's not returned. One has to understand - you won't end up feeling romantically inclined towards everyone who shows interest in you - by the same token, you can't necessarily demand the same from the people to whom you're attracted. Love's just like that.

I'm past believing I'm the most unattractive person in the world - to continue believing that would do a graceless, thankless repudiation of all the gifts with which I've been bestowed in this life. Without arrogance or egotism, I have to admit that I've been blessed with a few things that many people I've met have wished mightily that they themselves had. I also have to admit that they're just that - gifts. Luck of the draw. It would be absurd for me to take credit for something I had no part in acquiring or developing for myself. All this endless experience with unrequited love isn't anything more than simple bad luck. It almost seems like a karmic balance for the good luck I've had in other ways. Can't have it all.

But such absence is felt all too keenly. Most people have hollows in their lives. Some are touched with that blessed ignorance that forbids them any notice of it. Others are graced with the inner strength to live and deal with the things that they don't have. I, it seems, have neither. If either of those gifts were mine, perhaps I'd not be writing about it now.

But I look back on these past few months and realize that the three happiest moments I've recently had all involved hugs. One last week, one a month before that, and one a month before that. In each case, a warm, full-bodied hug of utter acceptance, appreciation, and sympathy - speaking of the thankfulness we each have for the very existence of the other, gratitude for favors done without request, attention and contact needed ever so badly, and a soundless release of tension and anguish - two shoulders to lean on for a moment in a world where we're all run ragged, with no respite offered from any corner save that offered by a few people who really understand.

Hugs can be profound. They're not all the same - but there are a few that say things to which no word can give voice. And although I can't say this for sure, I'd venture to guess that they can also say a few things that kisses never could.

Uneasy Truce

My demons and I have an interesting relationship. Well, perhaps not really... I figure that most people who have demons, have an interesting relationship with them.

They are my enemy; they feed off my soul, they thrive on my pain. When they believe that they have the upper hand, they push the advantage, striving to force me into the downward spiral that seems to be the lifegoal of any demon that plagues any other person.

But they are my tool; their rage becomes mine. And though it burns me from the inside out, I use the power, not as they see fit, but instead as I see fit; sometimes I work best when I'm angry. It's odd that, even as they try to push me down, I use their torment as fuel for my own fire. So what if it's the Dark Side of the Force? I'm shooting the lightning bolts at the right targets.

As a small but amusing example; I can't shoot pool worth a spit. One day, though, I happened to be shooting pool and I saw a bunch of people who really annoy me walk in. I continued playing - sinking shot after shot with serious authoritah. The people I was playing with noticed the tenfold increase in skill, and remarked that anger really does a lot for my game.

A more mundane, but significant example; it made me do well in school. Especially as an undergrad. I was actually able to concentrate on studies whilst pissed off - a neat trick, really - not everyone can do that. When I'm busy counting my curses, it's hard not to count this one as an odd sort of blessing.

It's negative energy, but if that's all you got, why waste it? I would rather channel the only strength I have instead of merely trying to dissipate it as waste heat.

On different levels, I know that there are other people who understand the same thing, but in different ways. Charles Schultz noted that sadness, not happiness, tends to create humor. Cartoon characters usually go through travails, the observation of which makes us laugh. Only occasionally do comics manage to make us smile through a sense of sympathy and not mockery. Dilbert is an odd example of both with simultaneity; Calvin and Hobbes also manages to do both, only it manages to do so separately.

Enjelani also manages to channel demons towards creative ends. She even manages to do so in a way that produces results that are literally beautiful. I only wish that it were possible for me to do something like that, but I'll settle for useful torment if the only alternative is self-destructive torment.

Let the little fiends nettle away, damn them. I'm sure that the fact that I can use them as well as they use me annoys the living piss out of them.