I can’t hear that without about a dozen cliches popping into my head and about twice that many corny movie scenes with vengeful damsels in distress or cocky knights in questionable armor. Where does that quote even come from? Surely some twisted tragic romance. I’m sure it didn’t end well.
I don’t think it’s true, by the way. (Does anyone really?) I think the only truth that it holds is the parallel that love is war, and mostly with yourself. Is there any sort of love that isn’t a battle? Whether it’s a battle to save something or to keep it and be near it, to be done with it or to distance oneself from it, I think you cannot separate the two.
Perhaps this is why love dies or fades over time. We can’t keep up perpetual battle without major help (no pun intended), so maybe love is the same way?
My tangled thoughts got gross and sentimental fast this time. Sorry folks.
I’ve just been wondering about something that’s kinda eating me inside: where does the boundary lie between learning selflessness and putting someone you love first, and disappearing into them and losing sight of what your self is at all? I’ve always been taught that selflessness is a virtue. But I’m both intrinsically and extrinsically reminded constantly that I should have another agenda – myself. Can you have both? And if in the course of attempting to make compromises in the name of love, you find that you can’t give enough to find middle ground, is it self preservation or selfishness that keeps you from committing? Does it mean that you don’t love the other enough if you can’t make the one last sacrifice? Or does it mean you don’t love yourself enough if you do?
A conundrum as old as time, I’m sure. Or just musings on an overcast evening…
Nothing Was Said 