Into The Woods

When I was young, I asked my father, “How old do you think I’ll be when I get married?” He laughed and said, “Much, much older than you are now.” I asked why, and he replied, “Because love is very hard when you’re young.”

I never took the words of my father to heart until it was too late. Sitting here now in the twilight of my teen years, gazing back on all the emotional turmoil I’ve endured and manage daily, I wonder why I didn’t take him seriously. Or perhaps I feel that I took him too seriously and understood what I was getting into all along, but somehow felt compelled to do it anyway. My current predicaments place me in a difficult position to be reflective on the heart and another’s power over it. All I can do is consider what has happened to me and where I may be now.

I spent too much of my adolescence worshiping the idea of a relationship, placing it in some angelic light, as the only thing that could save me. So as soon as I met someone I felt a connection with—sophomore year of high school—I jumped into a relationship. It blossomed quickly into an intense and sometimes overwhelming adoration. So many sentiments and thoughts were shared at night, in the backseat of cars, in basements and bedrooms that we become each other’s only connection to feeling. She was the first person I knew whose sadness was more unbearable than my own. But she was a year older than I and went off to college, and the physical and emotional distance slowly took its toll and things fell apart for both of us.

After that ended, I became very unsure of how I felt about everything. I went to France, I came to college, and I met many different types of girls that I came to know in different ways. My frame of reference expanded and I began to think of my emotions in less absolute terms. I allowed myself a little more freedom and expression than ever before. And then I met the girl who took all the wisdom I thought I had gained from my years away from home and ran away with it.

I very recently broke up with a girl named Liza whom I dated for a little over a year. She changed me in many strange ways that I still have a hard time articulating to myself or anyone. We are very close, and could never consider the prospect of severing all communication, but it’s always hard to talk to someone you once shared a certain affection with. All ordinary conversation, of even the friendliest nature, feels colder than it should.

At this point, I think I’ve put my heart into some things more than anyone my age should. I’m a hyper-emotional, sensitive, passionate person by nature, and I’ve lived many years dragged in untamed directions by my heartstrings and now feel lost about many things because of it. Maybe that’s a normal feeling and I should find reassurance and bliss in my confusion. Maybe I should try listening to my father.