Burning Love. an essay for lonely hearts

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Love burns. In the same way that there are different kinds of love, love burns in different ways. Such an incredible feeling comes with incredible consequences. Good, bad and ugly and everything in between and far beyond. It churns in your stomach, eats you alive and spits you out. No one is immune, no one is excluded. It’s a part of being human. 

Not every burn feels like a burn. It can sting, create butterflies and form into nausea. By burning I mean it leaves a mark, makes an impression on you. In whatever way love presents itself, it comes with a large possy of bullies. These bullies can be kind and they can be mean. Whatever their intention they get you to do things outside your comfort zone. They prey on your heart, flooding your head with insistent, demanding thoughts that turn into action. 

It’s quite simple yet perilously complicated. We all just want to be loved. In whatever shape or form that looks like to us, we want it - we need it. At the end of a long day to be held by someone who will stand by your side when everything falls apart is all we really need. This kind of love doesn’t have to be romantic. Friends and family can fill that void. They can also create that void. That’s where it gets hard. 

Relationships are complicated. We are continuously getting burned and healing our wounds. Cycling through lost lovers, toxic friendships and puzzling family dynamics. Hoping to one day be at peace with not only ourselves but those around us. The greatest defense against getting burned is to love yourself unconditionally. It’s an incredibly daunting task. To finally see yourself as a human who fell victim to love bullies. It’s a natural part of life we in turn bully ourselves for. 

This Valentine’s season I feel lost and vulnerable. Victim to love bullies and burned like a motherfucker. There is so much pain in love, in life. I’ve learned from a young age that pain can be managed, that it will never go away but instead rests deep inside you - a part of you. We all carry it, conceal it, reveal it but never lose it. Sometimes it boils over, and sometimes we simmer it away until we have burned every nerve ending to become numb. I tell myself to just get through today and maybe tomorrow will be better. If tomorrow comes and I still feel low, I take refuge in the sun. In being and breathing.

There is solace in stillness.

Strike Out,

Writer: Peyton Boudreaux

Orlando