So it is currently 2:30 in the morning and I really should be sleeping but I am finding my self too deep in thought to really put my mind to rest just yet. I just got back from seeing the midnight showing of Letters to Juliet with Aubrey and Madison. It got me thinking about what true love truly is.
I would like to think that I've been in love, but when I really start to think about it I wonder if I know anything about love at all. And when I do think of it that way, I tend to think I do not. By this I mean that my life experiences as of yet have not caused me to feel that deeply....I don't feel like anything I've ever shared, be it love or not, has ever really been true. Although I have not experienced this magic in my own life I would like to believe that I have learned of it from the many examples around me.
I see it in the way my parents gaze at each other...as if no one could ever love the way they do. I see it in the way my grandma will eat a hamburger without the salt because my grandpa is no longer able to with his cancer...and if you knew my grandma (or Utahans for that matter), you would understand. I see it in the clasped hands of a couple whose hands have long been wrinkled. I see it in the pages of my Nicolas Sparks books, and on the big screen in the cheesy chick flicks that I love. And these small moments and memories that I now carry with me, have taught me that true love exists.
It really makes me sad that we live in such a cynical world, that we believe that one bad experience holds true for every experience we will ever have. I am guilty of it. It seems quite ironic that it's easier to dwell on something that makes you feel so terrible inside rather than to hope for something that could be absolutely beautiful, and far more wonderful than the pain we feel at the current moment. I wonder about that. I have said myself that, "it is easier to hold onto memories than to hope for a future that I cannot have or predict." The human heart is strange that way. I may never understand it.
Besides the movie there is a song that got me thinking about all of this. It's "Let it Die" by Feist. It's one of my favorites. It's a song about the heartbroken. A song that I can relate to in many ways. My favorite lyrics go as follows, "The saddest part or a broken heart isn't the ending so much as the start." My friend asked me tonight what that meant. I told her that I thought it meant that when you get your heart broken, the sad part isn't that what you had was over, is that you let yourself fall in love in the first place. It's as if you in a way broke your own heart. But to me that doesn't seem fair...however true it may be. It's stupid though, because you could of course save yourself from ever getting your heart broken by never falling in love...but then you never get to fall in love.
So what do I know about true love? Well I know for one thing that it's true. I don't think it's as corny as in the movies or songs or books that I love. I know it's hard, but I know it's worth it. If true love is true, there is no need to be cynical or to dwell on a broken heart, well because it's true. I suppose I don't make much sense at 2:30 in the morning...now 3:00. But it's just a thought. When I think of a broken heart I think...If my heart has loved once, it is definitely most capable to love again, and even more deeply than before.