Maybe I'm a romantic. I'm in love with the idea of love. All people are I assume. At least all people my age are. I assume. Some people I suppose grow out of it, and I'm too young to know if it's caused by giving all of your love away to people who never give you any back or by keeping all of your love to yourself until it ferments. I certainly don't plan on doing either, but I'm sure nobody plans on falling out of love with love. That's just one of those crazy things life backhands you with. Some people see their parents fight endlessly and determine that only a perfect being is worthy of their love. Other people see people suffer alone needlessly and determine that so long as they are able they will not permit anyone life gives them to suffer alone. The difficult thing is that love only means giving someone the opportunity to hurt you with the knowledge that some day they will. I don't understand why we need that. It's infuriating, but sometimes lovely.
Love since being home from my mission for seven months is elusive.
This girl came up to me today. I think she likes me because I barely know her, but she has come up to me twice and intentionally started a conversion with me. When we talk she laughs too loud at the things I say that are supposed to be funny but aren't.
I'm listening to the old songs. I never thought I could miss anything so painfully as I miss my mission. I didn't miss it for a long time and then one day (I can remember it perfectly) it hit me harder than probably anything has ever hit anyone and from that point on I have spent my time pretending I don't miss my mission. But then I go and listen to the old songs and it all comes back. Each apartment I lived in had a distinct feel to it. If I close my eyes and listen I can feel it strong enough that I almost believe I am back. It's funny that the feeling of each apartment is one of the only things I can hold on to. In my second area I bought this soap. It was the same soap I had had when I lived with Shaley and Ashlin and Jessica, vanilla and black raspberry. When I washed with that soap it smelled like I was back at college and the feeling of that apartment came back. I will never be content with what I've been given. I don't think I will ever stop mission my mission. But I think this is better than not missing it. I really do.
Being in love is both a blessing and a curse. I know from experience. Or at least I tell myself I do. I have yet to replicate that feeling of seeing her walk into a room. Maybe that is holding me back. Maybe I already gave all my love to someone and she didn't give me anything back. I hate missing things. I hate that my whole life will be spent moving on from the things I love.
I forgot what my point was supposed to be.
