I think, the first thing I fell in love with was my own misery. I don’t know much about other’s vision of life in their heads, but mine was always a dark, gory one.
I wonder if it was my exposure to little else that did this. Maybe I lived in a well, so I learnt to swim in circles. We are all the best result of our circumstances after all. But however we may have come to this meaning, loving misery isn’t always as wretched as they make it to be.
I think I am a connoisseur of brooding. I love brooders, lurking aimlessly, burning away the false ideas of hope created by an autocratic establishment. Brooding is perhaps the greatest creative force that affects all great artists unequivocally.
But growing up this love for misery led me to some nasty places and people. I couldn’t bear it. It felt like my body would physically give in to the misery they made me feel. Like my chest would sink in, consuming me whole.
I knew then I didn’t feel love. I only felt misery. And maybe that’s just the way I play with words or maybe that’s exactly why you must understand the difference.
Love is such an incredibly abstract concept. What we feel is actually a physiological and mental response to conditions. What we express is actually a selfish intent. What we give is our power so we can feel at peace for serving our ideals.
But we don’t feel, express or give – love.
Love for me is a state of existence I defined for myself. A state of understanding the world which helped me with nothing except being a vessel for my being. Its surely built from a lot of common thoughts and ideas we hold as a social organism. It surely interacts with other’s definition of love and therefore grows, not changes.
Love becomes a value to keep to yourself more than anyone else. A value you hold. A deeper connection to your own mind which you honor through living the state of existence that is love.
It is neither morality nor religion. It is art. Abstract, emotional and personal. Love is a condition we put on ourselves for feeling excitement, joy and so much more.
So yes, I do still love misery. I think that’s just an unreasonable thing I have decided I must do because misery has brought me much fulfillment too. And I am miserably addicted to my love.