Author's Note: I give full credit to the phrase in the title to the band Say Anything and also, for the beginning of the story, to the movie Purple Violets which inspired me to take the time and write down my personal experience with love. It wasn't exactly like this, this is nothing but a metaphor. Hope you enjoy it.
Today I found an old friend . . . he was standing right there, by the fountain in the century old square. He had been there for a long time, waiting for me. Or so he said. But I'd been somewhere else, somewhere distant, somewhere away from him.
He was always there, standing by that very old fountain, which spew sparkling, crystal-clear water, recycling it. I remember that people always threw pennies in it, and they usually closed their eyes. I also knew they wished for something. I know because I used to do it, but since he left, wishing seemed juvenile and ludicrous. How they wasted money in such trivial matters seemed insane.
This friend, I hadn't seen him in a very long while. He'd been far-flung from my life, even though he was once really close to me; I held them dearly in my heart. Before I found him once again, I had spit over his name; I had muted everyone who tried to remind me of him. I hated him. I had once loved him, but he flew away. He betrayed me. He left me just like leaves do to trees when autumn comes: exposed, ridiculed and empty-handed.
This friend's name is Love. Love had destroyed me. Love had abandoned me; he had tricked me and then he had laughed in my face. I'm a strong young woman. But Love just chopped off my tresses, taking away my strength, just like Delilah did to Samson.
When we assume we are over an issue, it's only a matter of time when we face it once more. And that is what happened. I faced Love again, right there in that fountain. But Love was different. He had another hair color and length; he was taller, and had a different body shape. His eyes were green and bigger, not brown and almond shaped like before, his smile was utterly wonderful, and surprisingly, he was pleased to see me, unlike before.
I knew it was he still, because when you adore someone like I did, you never forget him or her, no matter what changes. I gasped, shocked to see him standing there. I was overwhelmed, I started crying and his smile fell. I turned around and started to run. I didn't know where I was running to or what was happening exactly. I just wanted to know, why? Why was he there? Why was he waiting for me? Why was he so different?
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and as to hide myself, I covered my eyes. I felt embarrassed and self-conscious. I hadn't cried in so long, I had even forgotten how to do it. I cried full out sobs, the ones you just want to mute and never have to hear again. He turned me around, for me to face him. I kept my hands covering my face. I didn't want him to see me so vulnerable. He looked down on me, and took my hands from my eyes. I just stared at the floor, my face humiliated, my heart racing. I studied the patterns in the cracks. One of the cracks had a little plant growing inside of it. Another had many tiny pebbles around it.
A minute couldn't have gone past until I realized I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to tell him that I missed him; I wanted to ask him why he left, I wanted to let him know that I still love him, but I was hurt. I wanted to admit that without Love, I was nothing. I was just bones. But I was strong. I was. Strong.
Or was I?
Denying Love's regret wasn't going to make me stronger, or more in control. It would make me stupid and miserable. It would make the gap in my soul grow wider, and wider, and wider. I wanted to grab on to him, to hold him tight. And for once, I could. And for once, I did.
I held on to him so hard, as to never let go. He embraced me in his arms, and I knew that this Love was good. I knew that Love wouldn't leave me again. He wouldn't harm me. This love wasn't venomous, it didn't sting, or hurt, or throb. This Love was warm and comfortable, like a snuggly cover. I felt protected and appreciated. And I liked it.
I was in love with Love. I felt powerful, and alive, and glorious. I was alive with the glory of love.
