I have no idea where this romantic mumbo-jumbo came from. Written in January of 2005, this poem is all kinds of mushy. At 14-years-old, I’d never kissed a man, let along dated one. Still, this came out of me.
Favorite Picture of Life
I see a man.
He’s kissing a girl,
And they’re in love.
They’ll be together forever.
This is my favorite picture of life.
But I also see another man.
He’s walking away.
Her cries are heard for miles.
Someone has torn,
my favorite picture of life.
What’s curious to me about the timing of this poem is that I did not believe in love at this point in my life. It wasn’t something I thought would ever happen to me. I had my whole life planned through college and never did it include finding someone to spend my life with.
In a way, maybe my belief love did not exist fueled this poem. Now out of an environment where I needed to be hyper cautious to avoid bullies, my habits aimed at protecting me worked against me. For this, this was characterized by a fear of rejection. Perhaps I crossed love of my bucket list because the risk of rejection still felt too great (ironically, I would be the one to break up with the only two boyfriends I would have in high school).
This poem, while simple, provides and interesting look at life. Taking out the romance, the first half of the poem describes happiness. While it feels permanent, clearly it’s not. In the second half, the relationship has dissolved. I describe that happiness as my favorite picture of life. Happiness is a risk because, when it leaves, you will not only be sad, but remember when you were otherwise.
It’s a crazy idea, I know. In 2005, I still suffered from low self-esteem and depression. These burdens weren’t nearly as large as they were in my middle school years, but they were there. As such, this idea that it was safer to never try achieving that level of happiness made complete sense.
I can say it’s worth it now, but what do I really know? Plenty of people end up just like this poem. Their hearts broken, would they still think the risk was worth it? Wouldn’t it be better to never had tasted that happiness in the first place?
Did you ever go through a period of time where you didn’t believe in love? Do you believe in love now? How do you justify the risk to your heart?