Greetings from Canada. Where else would one with thin blood be in February??
I am holed up in a Tim Hortons (read: Dunkin Donuts) working on the outline for my latest project which is tentatively titled Pretty Hate. It is about heartbreak and grief and getting thrown away by lovers. Sounds like a real hoot, huh? It will be funny, I promise. It's starting to feel new adult to me.
Maybe the themes will feel familiar to some of you?
One theme I've been exploring in this book are the effects social media has on insecurity.
Ever felt like you couldn't stop yourself from digging up the past? Something that hypochondriacs (guilty) are frequently told is that if you search long and hard enough for something, you will find something and when you do, it's devastating.
I've spoken to many people who get on the obsession train and cannot jump off. The compulsion so strong, they've literally thrown themselves in the throes of OCD. They walk among us, though rarely do they admit it. This behavior knows absolutely no demographic. Your mother, if single (and maybe even, if not) does it. Your grandmother does it. Pretty girls do it. Men do it.
And it's utter bullshit when people say it's merely curiosity. No matter what they say happened to the cat, simple curiosity is frequently not heartbreaking. This is. And damaging, Extremely. Because who are you tearing apart when you're alone in your room, Sara Lee cheesecake at the ready, staring at Aspen vacation pics and chastising yourself because you've never been on skis? Do it enough times, it's a habit just as bad for you as cigarettes or copious amounts of caffeine (yes, guilty of those too.)
One of the saddest things is it's done in the name of love. I've been in some pretty shitty relationships, but love (especially in the beginning where everything is endearing) is not supposed to feel like that.
I love, love. I am a love junky and, not unlike an addict, I've done some pretty horrific stuff in the name of love. But I will never sour to it. Ever. And I've talked to some who are so hurt they say they'll never enter into this soul-suck called love again. I find that the worst residual effect.
It's not love's fault...love is pure. It's the MSG, bovine hormone, high-fructose corn syrup, saccharine additives you mix in with your love. And it's not that I'm enlightened or hip to the game or don't fall on my ass when it comes to love, I surely do.
I just find the pain of not being in love greater than the pain of being in love. So, fall in love, fall on your ass, shake it off and get back out there. Just try to learn from the epic fails and in time laugh about them. That's the sweetest gift of time. I find when I feel a relationship is ending, when I have proof not speculation that it's ending, I so look forward to that moment that I smack myself of the forehead and realize in my heart that I made a bad choice. And the best part of all is when I no longer give a shit about that "choice." I live for that moment.
And I've made many, hundreds, of bad choices when it comes to love. But I want it too much to ever quit it.