I love romantic films. It's actually an obsession of mine; I watch these romantic comedies not only once or twice or three times. But many, many times. Then after doing so I watch the movie with director commentary. I think it is the familiarity, the music, the conversations I find comforting. I even like the ones that end so tragically. Everything in a romantic film is so graceful and artificial.
So enthralled by romantic films, I thought it would be a good idea to create my own last week. Got on a plane, flew to see the person I loved and failed with such ease. What they do not show you in these films are the waiting in layovers. The quiet moments in the hotel. The buying McDonalds for food in the hotel. Its just not as cute and much more expensive than what we see on the silver screen. Of course, I am embarrassed but a part of me laughs every time I think about it. Just because I would do something like this. That is a full expression of who I am. Crazy but ideal. And as I make these decisions, I am realizing I am much more braver than I thought I was.
I actually attempted this little adventures the week prior but changed my mind last minute. The same hour I was about to jump on a plane, was also happened the same hour I found myself back on the T. It was a whirlwind of an hour, let me tell you. I realized that the person that would've been at that door would have been the weakest version of me. I wanted so many things, needed words, affection, love. All the things that should never be warranted from no one else other than yourself. You cannot convince someone your worth if you cannot answer that on your own. And even though it was only a week that had passed, I felt like I was ready to jump on the horse again. Just this time it would be for me. And only me.
I wanted peace, I wanted dialogue. But more importantly I wanted to take care of myself. I wanted to create movement through a conversation and was waiting too long for the inevitable. Many of my loved ones were against my little voyage, not wanting this to be a part of my memories but because of this, I reached an euphoria that has only taken me forward. I do not see my story as an inspiration to a film anytime soon, but it was honest. Something that actually was very sweet. It may not have been the greatest thing to happen but there was still so much love even in the end. Happy Ending, not so much. Happiness? Possibly.
My real life story is, I do not know where I will be in the next year or so. God willing I will have options when I apply to medical schools. So until things become more real, I do not have choices to make. I am sad now but I also know I would die if I do not live the life I want that I've wanted for myself. Love, or rather more so, relationships are fleeing and less tangible in comparison to a beckoning career. But here is the thing. I don't think real love can ever really flee. Relationships can. But if Love is in its most purest form, then I don't think it can be easily disposed with time. I thought life was much more dynamic than this. That we can multitask in the different roles in our lives: as professionals, as lovers, as parents, as children, as women and men. I hate that there is an ultimatum between the roles we play and for this need for compartmentalization.
I want to believe that love can transcend these sort of things. I would want the kind of love that can sustain on faith, forgiveness, foresight. But until then, until this obscurity clears, I just have to trust in it and work with it. So maybe this isn't the end to my love story. Maybe this was just part of the bigger story line. Or a giant pause in it. Whatever it is, I will trudge along. Working hard, loving hard. All at the same time.
So moral of the story: Being romantic is expensive. Just kidding. But seriously.