Ain't Love Grand?

These past few months have been a sort of whirl wind. Job lost, job gained. Unemployed, got creative and wrote a graphic novel. Wife lost...well, we're still working on what that's gained.

Which is sort of the thesis of this post, if you will.

What is love good for? Now, stick with me here. I'm not about to go on some sad rant about how "love sucks and I'll never fall into that trap again." This is just an interesting thought I had.

What has love brought us?

A treasure trove of art.
A concept of family.
An appreciation of all things beautiful.
Hope.
Romance.
Timeless love stories.
Just plain...joy for some.

Of course the list goes on, but let's get to what you all want to know -- what bad would I argue love breeds?

Well, more art, born as much from heartache as there is art created in bliss (Van Goth, anyone?).
How many people are killed each year as the result of love in crimes of passion?
Loneliness -- is it, honestly, better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? Try it sometime.
Depression.
Divorce lawyers.
Hope. (see what I did there?)
Titanic (don't even get me started)

I've come to realize recently that I, like I dare say most people, yearn to be wanted. Desire to be desired. What is love it if be not returned? You could compare it to a muted song. The reflection of a blind man. Or a sail with no breeze.

I have been single now almost six months and in that time I've encountered more run ins with love and loss than any time in the years prior that I'd been single. I've faced more than one instance of almost begging to be wanted, to be loved. Stay. Take me with you. Take a chance. All for not. I still combat them, mostly internally. I know a true weakness of mine is to be wanted, for someone to think of me when I'm not around and not having to wonder if they care. Does that make me...weak? To some, perhaps. But maybe I'm just typical -- I want to impact someone's life. Don't we all?

I've run from the opposite of not being loved. I was wanted passionately when someone saw the cross I tried to bear alone, extended a hand and said 'let me.' I refused, quite rudely. A fuse sparked and fired ever so briefly before I doused it with cold water before it could ignite. Why? Fear. Fear of getting too close. Fear of hearing promises from one person that had been broken by others. A faith lost in the kindness of others as a result of love. Armor, thick armor plated over me as a result of welcoming the vulnerability of love.

I have loved and I will love again. I welcome it. I don't curse love, I just find it tumultuous. But I suppose if it was easy, what would be the point? Love shouldn't be arranged, ordinary and predictable. There'd be no passion, no fire, no POINT. But the pain, I could do without. The games. The realizing that what's behind the curtain really isn't what you thought it was.

I've noticed that I search for love now. I never stopped. I'm the type of man the requires someone to love, to admire, to share with. Call me a sap. Call me a fool. Perhaps I am. But who's the bigger fool -- the man who gets burned by a flame and proceeds to live in the dark as a result of fearing he'll get burned again, or the man who gets burned and instead learns to keep his guard up around something so...volatile?

I suppose life's too short to spend alone. But at what point do you give up? When, if ever, is it time to stop hoping for a change, for someone to realize what's in front of them or what they've given up?

When is love the poison and when is it the cure?