I journal a lot. My current journal is literally bursting and I have only just gone over half way. This morning I sat skimming over the posts trying to find the theme of the last two years, and so far I have noted three with constant strain. I constantly write about travel through wanderlust, inspiration through quotations and poems, which remind me that life is not all bad and the last theme that pops up a lot is unrequited love.
Now, to a 23 year old who has only had one failed relationship that seems a bit much, but whilst reading some of my old posts I genuinely think I am love repellent and growing to accept it with a cool heart. I had to laugh at some of the entries because even though I have much better grammar in my Moleskine (than on here…), I don’t half just go into silly, lonely teenage style, hate fearing, ultimate sob your heart out mode. I understand finding love is hard, especially at 23 when all the people I have met and correspond with are all loved up or married and I’m the weird single girl in the corner, but wow, I do scare myself with the heart wrenching thoughts that circulate within the pages. As much as I have been trying to turn my heart into stone when I curl up in bed alone each night, hoping to wake up never having to feel a thing in order to get by in life, I know I can’t do it.
Love is fleeting, and even though I won’t find anyone, I need love to get by. Love for me is what I give to my little siblings, my friends, myself, (Michael Fassbender and Rory McCann worship) and most importantly my writing. For the sake of reading and writing I copied up Shakespeare’s sonnet 102 in my journal and thought I should share it with you folks. I read it when I was 13, at upper school at a point in my life when I still didn’t have friends, but the love I had made me hope that one day I could share it. I guess at that age I was more mature and sentimental than I thought. I’m growing up and it feels great. I’ll no longer believe in “one day,” and only stick with now.
Shakespeare’s Sonnet 102
My love is strengthen’d, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear:
That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming
The owner’s tongue doth publish every where.
Our love was new and then but in the spring
When I was wont to greet it with my lays,
As Philomel in summer’s front doth sing
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days:
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue,
Because I would not dull you with my song.
Quick note… If you are unfamiliar with Shakespearian cant, what he is basically saying is that even though his love is still as strong as it was in the beginning, he’s glad he had the experience and it will always be in his heart and mind forever, he just won’t show it as much anymore. He, like me, no longer sees love as the life changing event that will rock your life forever and every single day especially when the person he loves doesn’t precipitate. Love is powerful yes, but over the top at times and because of that, it is overwhelming and it is resulting in his heartache. This is a wonderful example of unrequited love, and why you shouldn’t be desperate or give up, without emphasis in “one day”.
Tomorrow I shall pull a card from a tarot deck and find the new lesson I need to learn within.