Writing is Funny and Love is Stupid

I have had a few experiences over this summer that I would like to say has taught me a lot about stupid love. I can’t say that, however. I can say that I have had a few experiences that told me a lot of stuff I already knew about love. I’m not quite sure what I want to say about it here; I just thought talking about it could be cathartic and good for me, and writing usually brings out the things I think, but don’t know that I think—if that makes sense. I think it just warms up your brain and you can separate your thoughts and pick them out better and teach yourself about yourself, which is an addictive and always fun experience.

As they say, “It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” I would guess that means that the memories of what was lost outweigh the loss itself. Maybe. But unless the other party left some of their things over at your house, or lent you money, what was gained from this now not shared love besides memories? And should memories really be chalked up in the things gained column? They seem to be the most painful part of a love lost. The memories are what make up most of the losses. They get attached to music, places, jokes, movies, games, and ideas that can no longer be fully enjoyed because they have been stained with the memories of loss. Being in love is great. Not being in love really isn’t that bad unless you were recently in love and are able to compare the two. In that case, not being in love can be suicidal, and memories do nothing but point out the incredible differences between the two.

So, what now? I am not quite sure what I have really gained from these experiences, and even though the math doesn’t add up I am sure it is better to have loved; if not, the saying would be, “It is worse to have loved and not gained than to ever have loved at all,” and that is just depressing.