Two rock on the edge of a cliff
There’s an image I keep coming back to. Two rocks on a cliff somewhere. Nothing happening. No bodies, no movement, no plot. Just two rocks next to each other, choosing to be.
That’s what I think love actually is. Underneath all the other stuff people pile on top of it.
Most of what passes for love comes with an invoice attached, even when people don’t know they’re keeping one. Love me back. Choose me. Make me feel chosen. See me a certain way. People love because they want something back. Reciprocation, pleasure, validation, security, the comfort of not being alone. They keep score without knowing they’re keeping score.
The image came from a movie about a mother and her daughter. But I’m thinking about it as romantic love.
I want the kind that doesn’t keep score. The kind where someone would turn into a rock next to you because you’re there. No payoff, no plot, no reason to. Just staying.
I know it exists. I’ve felt it. That’s the part that’s hard, because I know it’s real, and I also know how rare it is. Most people can’t give it. Most people were never taught how. Most people are still trying to get something.
So I keep being a rock. And I keep hoping someone rolls over.
Wondering if you’re that person.