young hearts run free x

I am not in love

But I’m open to persuasion.

Falling head over heals is so easy and satisfyingly dizzying when you’re young and blinded by the city lights and glittering world ahead of you.

As a girl who eventually went on to film school since she wanted her life to be like the movies she watched, she didn’t realize the deep wounds such stories would cut into her and scab over to never fully heal… leaving a permanent itch for desperate windswept embraces and a desire to persuade non-affectionate lovers into mesmerized admirers.

She thought that beaming as her very own being, one who traveled the world and spoke foreign languages and read from the sun-soaked pages of classic novels at sidewalk cafes, would be enough to tempt the opposite of sex and convince them of her worth.

The rude awakening. The cruel joke those Vienna scenes projected in Before Sunrise of young lovers philosophizing all night and simultaneously discovering new sides of themselves reflected in the eyes of another while forming the deepest of romantic connections.

It looks so simple on screen.

Talking.

Falling.

Finding.

And yet, underneath the skin the heart beats. It plays games not with the opposite sex, but with one’s own. As if intuition becomes clouded over by the trickery of Ganesh. And while you know the gods of time and virtue mean well, failed connections slowly rust away and erode at your heartstrings until they become so brittle you’re unsure if they will ever be able to uphold another love again.

At the age of 35, she has some stories to tell about love. And while she imagines one day they will entertain her granddaughter with narratives of foreign lovers and the exploration of romantic escapes, at the moment her heart resembles a frozen lake which she allows no one dare to tread for fear of cracking irreparably.

And she’s scared. At first glance, of the threat which outsiders might impose, with their hypnotic ways to trick her into romantic disillusions of believing she’s perhaps found her Mr. Darcy before they reveal themselves to be Mr Collins or Mr Wickham.

But in all honestly, what scares her the most is not the risk of trickery or her sentiments and affections not being returned, but the threat of herself.

The threat of past failures and patterns. The threat of being overly protective or not protected enough.

The threat of heartbreak and pain which presents itself in the form of a potential suitor, when in actuality it’s her alter-ego all along.

Meaning there is no one to blame for the heartbreak which she’s felt but herself.

The overexcitement.

The premature written narrative of a romantic comedy or idealistic three-part trilogy spread across decades and European backdrops.

The talking.

The falling.

The blame for finding herself in others and inevitably losing herself when they go their separate ways.

The blame for the love and happiness she voluntarily gave way and which drifted so far she eventually lost sight of it. Wondering if it is forever gone.

The blame for the love and happiness she felt within yet without an outlet to express since she didn’t find herself worthy enough.

My heart yearns for her. That scared girl who possesses the heart of a woman.

Or is she a scared woman who possessed the heart of a girl?

Perhaps that’s it.

The innocent heart born from fairy tales and Victorian dialogues, which has no place in the body of a woman navigating the current dating scene,…where dating app profiles have replaced glances across the cafe, and cheeky predictable texts replaced the courageous ask to get to know a stranger and stare deep into their eyes while posing what their heart yearns for.

And though once all she wanted was the kind-hearted hero who whispered sweet compliments and swept her into his arms, it now seems almost undesirable since she’s nearly convinced herself it will dissipate like the rest of them… just to avoid the foolish games.

So how does she learn to trust herself again?

How does she persuade herself that falling might just feel like rising in a parallel universe?

How does she regrow her heart with new stories to serve it well and set it free?

Because she recognizes it’s time to fall in love again with love.

Such as the young heart which runs free.

Only now, it is herself at the other end of the field. Trodding in the early dawn light and through the thin veil of fog, waiting to embrace herself and give her everything she needs.

Because maybe then… once she trusts herself… once she loves herself and relearns to love love, will she then learn to mirror that back onto others and be able to love them as well.

x Lindsay