post 14 : resentment and reciprocation

I wonder if he resents me for loving him the way I resent others for loving me. I wonder at what point you are allowed to claim love, not infatuation if only as a sign of respect; that you don’t actually know the person well enough to love them and you shouldn’t claim to. I wonder if this will make us an impossibility; the more I grow to love him, the more he will push me away. Hell, it’s what I do. I wonder if it actually is possible to stop. It has been possible in the past, sure, but was that love? I wonder if all of those cliché sayings that I hate so much are true: is love forever? Surely not.

The more lingering question is, though: can one really exist without the other, can you love without being loved in return?

In Law School we are taught that everything ‘depends’. Things depend on the facts, of the motive, of the definitions of the words in the legislation. There is a definition for everything. We express things precisely, categorise them into boxes so that they are easily cut and copied to fit into life where we deem necessary. Love, though. How does one define love? A dictionary meaning would suggest that it is a “profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person”; a “sexual passion or desire” but surely passion and desire mean different things to different people, surely love means different things to different people, and therefore is a feeling which escapes all definition.  
         

I know for certain that exclusively to love the way someone makes you feel is not love at all. I wonder also, if to love unrequitedly is not to love at all. I would hope not, but I am not sure.

Some are of the opinion that love creates love; that it is circular. I tend to disagree, though believe that some prefer it to be so, if only to satisfy their vanity. Do we slip somewhere along the way, and fall into love because someone loves us? Do we push ourselves into something reciprocated? Do we enjoy being loved more than we enjoy love itself? Sure, this creates comfort, a feeling of being wanted, a mere satisfactory white picket fence life together. But is it love? If it is, I want no part in it.

Was it Jane Austin that said: “There are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement”? Now this, I believe. I don’t believe reciprocation will always unfold, but I believe that it feels fucking good to love, to really love and I would choose that, every time.