Dear Love / Collateral Beauty Inspired Letter
Dear Love,
I’ve craved for you all my life, but only lately I’ve realised that it’s not about me finding you, it’s about you finding me.
Sometimes it’s so simple. Sometimes you come so easily, Love, finding your way into me and I don’t even notice.
One of those times was when I sat in the hospital with my aunt and held her newborn baby in my arms. The tiny boy was fragile, innocent and vulnerable, a bunch of warmth and hopes and dreams and wishes - and you, Love.
I cradled him in my arms, placed a kiss on his small forehead and realised:
I loved him. And loving him was so easy.
Sometimes it takes time for you to build up. Sometimes, I realise I’m in the process, and sometimes I fight it.
Sometimes I don’t.
I remember welcoming you with open arms as my best friend stood in front of me while you came crashing down around her. You broke her heart, and yet the thing I whispered in her hair as I embraced her in a hug was this:
“I love you.” I’ve said it plenty of times and I’ve meant it every single one of them.
It’s strange that we need you so desperately, Love.
That, when you break our hearts and tear our worlds apart around us, what helps us fixing it is you, too.
It’s a friend’s love, and hugs shared together and smiles. It’s the certainty that this love will last.
You come with different faces and in different ways, but I know that no matter how you appear, you are the warm feeling in my chest. The feeling that makes me feel safe, worth it.
But then again I’m laying in my bed at 3 AM and the tears are wetting the pillow I bury my face in while I silently beg for the pain to disappear, for you to disappear
- and that’s you too, this feeling.
Because you can come with both happiness and sorrow, and I’ve experienced it all.
But you are not the happiness nor the pain, and I’ve figured that out just now.
What you are, Love, is that feeling. The warmth. The trust. The passion. That’s what I feel when you’re there. Maybe you’re not always close enough for me to reach you, but that’s what I feel when I think about you.
Love, you are an emotion. You can come in different ways and with different faces. And you can come with different feelings.
But I get it now. I do.
You are home.
You are what I always come back to. What I miss when I can’t reach, or see, or feel it. What protects me. What makes me strong - and vulnerable.
You are what makes me worth it. You, by giving me a piece of you to give to others, have made me worth it.
I know that my capability of loving is what will make you find me eventually.
Because you always come through me, don’t you?
And when you find your way through my darkness, when I can finally grab you and plant a tender kiss on your lips, and when I taste the glimmering stars and the saturnine space between them, I will say it.
Thanks, Love. For loving me.
