Where does love go?

My musings on love, heartbreak and passion

Our ability to love is a beautiful thing, but I, like some of you here on Substack, feel like I might have more to give than most people. I think this is down to how emotional I am, how expressive I need to be and perhaps how I always have to visualise everything in my mind.

Hopeless romantics like myself feel love deeply, in ways that can barely be described with words. We wear our hearts on our sleeves, and always have love to give. There is no limit. It’s all encompassing. We live with butterflies in our stomachs, dreams in our minds, and unspoken words lodged in our throats.

What’s strange about love, and emotion in general, is that it can’t be seen. Yet these feelings feel just as real as the laptop I’m typing on right now. It’s portrayed with words, body and action, but can be falsified. Eye contact between two people is one way it can be revealed, but not in a quantifiable sense (unless you have the money to spend on a brain scan, that is).

I just have so much love to give, but often there isn’t anywhere for it to go.  It builds up inside me and gets stuck, clogging my energy making me long for relief. I worry that it will go stagnant and decay inside of my body, rotting me from the inside out.

The vulnerability of love is something I need to be wary of. Love often rules my life, and influences my decisions based on that. My brain isn’t even considered when my heart takes over, but I can’t help it. Love defies all logic and practicality. It doesn’t matter what’s best for me, as love is the only way I want to go.

Although the feeling of love is a beautiful thing, it can go the other way too,  especially if your love is unrequited. It’s embarrassing when you pour your love into someone who doesn’t want to receive it. You end up constantly heartbroken, clinging onto every muttered word or small glance. That aching feeling, that longing, for your love to be reciprocated and accepted, feels like a physical pulling. It makes me feel like my heart will explode. Even worse, love has a level of grief to it as well, the loss of love can not only be the ending of a relationship, but also a version of your future life that you thought was guaranteed. It’s harrowing. 

If you have a tendency to fantasise like I do, you’ll find yourself lying awake at night, going over conversations, creating moments that are both good and bad in your mind. Some of those for me include situations that make me jealous, it’s like I'm punishing myself in my mind and I can’t control it.

For the hopeless romantics, love is tumultuous. But no matter how hurt or heartbroken we get, we will go straight back there, no questions asked. Over and over again. We see the positives and the potential in people and ignore the negatives with the rose coloured glasses we’ve put on ourselves.

I’ve written mainly about romantic love, but of course other forms of love are just as beautiful. For example, I love animals and nature so much. Even though I don’t speak their language, I can communicate with them somehow. I have so much room in my heart for love, I am full of it, and I hope to swell with this as I age. 

I sometimes worry that my inclination to love someone is too much. It makes me self-conscious at times, but I can’t help it. Writing this post has made me realise that my love is worth more than anything. It’s a huge part of who I am. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by me. I am precious, as are you.