I can't believe that a hundred, thousands, millions of years from now, as long as human life exists, people will forget what love is.
I'm not talking about the word love itself.
L-o-v-e.
Each language has its ideal letters for what love represents in writing; it's not about that.
It's about its meaning. The feeling behind it.
The love I already felt when I composed those songs, which were never recorded — or even considered for that matter. I'm sure our producer thought it best to file away a silly song about a first lesbian love. Can you imagine? I would be deported back to Thailand.
But hey, that love is valid too. Any kind of love is, isn't that what optimistic novelists say?
I just hope that in 3034 or 30034, love is more free than it is today.
It's not like we confine it in a cage. We don't domesticate it.
But I think we treat it like prisoners, sometimes without even realizing it.
I mean, is it normal for such a beautiful and theoretically uncomplicated word to be lost in oblivion? It can't be. I hope it never is.
How can you forget about love?
About the first person you run to when you get hurt as a child, the one who protects you, kisses your wounds, and teaches you how to avoid getting hurt again.
And later, the love that brings you closer to the person you want to run to when your heart is hurting, the one who lets you stay in their arms and sleep until the tears dry.
It's not that love hurts.
Love doesn't hurt.
It's just a word. A short, beautiful, and powerful word. But unscathed.
It's not love that breaks. It's the heart.
There's an organ that thinks it can do everything and come out unscathed — it knows, always knows when it's going to get hurt, but still insists — it's your stupid heart that feels everything twice for you, it amplifies the best part of love but also the worst.
And in the end, when you just want to blame something, you blame love when, in fact, the culprit is your stupid heart.
I like to think that my heart knows how highly I think of love, and that's why it tends to keep it in custody with good privileges.
I almost never feel pain. Only when I overthink.
Sometimes it's hard to stay in the present and not fear the world around, especially my world, with so many eyes always on me, wanting more and more than I have and what I can't offer.
But love is always kind to me, and my heart almost always is too.
They work together when my chest expands in anticipation, when I get off a long flight and all I can think about is going to one place. And they don't disappoint me when I set eyes on what I've longed to see for days, weeks, sometimes months.
Which reminds me of the second word that will never be forgotten:
Distance
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Unforgotten Words • Jenlisa ✔
قصص الهواة"Words. I like them, don't ask me why. I never had the answers. But I have a special appreciation for them. I know they are not always necessary, sometimes attitudes are better, but I still really like words and I personally have twelve favorites. T...
