Not quite lost, but decidedly unfound.
“We lived in this rundown little two-flat on the west side, and there were those centipedes and the hot water ran out every three minutes but I swear to you, those were the best years of our lives.”
This is a movie cliché. This is something your parents talk about when they’re drunk.
Do you know why? Because of all the prefab bullshit and nonexistent scenarios we chase day in and day out, all the movie scenes that make us feel incomplete because they’re stylized reality, this one, this one actually exists.
Two people in love make happiness from the ether. A kitchen the size of a shoebox is perfect because someone is standing behind someone else rubbing hipbones in between cilantro chopping and the air conditioner doesn’t work but nobody cares because your girl is just as beautiful sweaty as she is showered and dinner is delicious even when it’s shit.
We will dance to whatever bullshit hits us in the hipbones, and the most mundane woman will shine like burnished copper in the light of her lover’s eyes. Certain clichés are worth embracing, and you might find something like happiness someday but you will have missed out on what was genuine and natural and right.
People forget how to laugh with the untainted exuberance of children, and they sure as shit unlearn how to be open to the possibility of wonder. Every one of us will forget how to love with a full heart.
Why rush toward emptiness?
