I wish I could forget how to be in love, because being in love is too memorable. It’s a pink post-it note on the fridge that catches my eye every time I walk by. Constantly invading my space one would think that it’s origins were in an Atari.
Being in love is like bungee jumping from the Brooklyn Bridge, dangling above the unknown waters wondering if you will fall in or will someone will pull you up again
It’s like that one person who has all your attention suddenly skyrockets into space and becomes your sun. The center of your solar system and all you can do is wait to revolve around their touch. Their chemical kisses turn you into the most volatile element on the periodic table, one shared moment of electron size will create an unbreakable bond between you two.
They become your designer drug, sitting in silence was equivalent to taking a syringe of pure heroin in the veins. Being numb to the world waiting on the next fix, like binge watching on Netflix.
Sex turns your body into water droplets left on their skin, and you wonder if this time you’ll be completely absorbed by their body or dried away to try again another day.
Being in love is like drinking espresso before bedtime. Jittering and shifting in these sheets like some helpless insomniac for when they’re not by your side it’s as if the moon has retired, leaving you to descend into darkness while Mr. Sandman ignores you and there are no little lambs to merrily count to sleep.
When they leave it feels like a meteor hitting your earth causing an empty crater that only they can restore, all your cravings and dinosaur desires become mere fossils and even though you know they will return you still have to sit through an ice age of suffering just to feel their warmth again.
So yes sometimes I wish I could forget how to Be In Love because I attach strings to my limbs and marionette, set to dance to the rhythm of their heart. It is too flighty of a feeling, dissipating like cigarette smoke in the day. The being leaves faster than a soul discarding a body, all that remains is an empty husk.
But the real reason is because I want the chance to replay these memories again. The first talk, the first kiss in the snow, the first argument where you realize this is bigger than anything you’ve ever known.
So instead I’d rather Have Love, than Be In Love because if you can be in it you can be out of it. More muscles are required to hold tight to something instead of being anything. Having love is like holding a snow-globe, every time the particles begin to settle you can shake it up and see something new.
But I want to be in love every once in awhile. I want it to sneak up on me like father’s playing hide-and-seek with their daughters, determined but tender to the touch. I want it to kiss me to sleep at night when I lay next to you, or excite my frail bones when I’m seventy-five and dance with you as if I was sixteen again. The feeling of Being In Love is like a sunset, it lasts for only a moment. But it will always rise again, each time with new colors and feelings and that’s why I wish I could forget. So I can see this world with brand new eyes.