24 July 2007

The Evil Nature of Virtual Love

Written by Iris Watts Hirideyo ( Contact the author of this post )
Published on July 24th, 2007 @ 02:54:10 pm, using 605 words, 297 views

Losing someone you love is one thing. It hurts but since you know the person, since you’ve gotten to know the good as well as the bad, it is a real person you’re getting over, some of whom will be missed, some of whom you’ll be ecstatic not have to deal with ever again. That’s the evil of virtual love. You “meet” someone who goes from being a stranger to being a loved one, who showers you with the most beautiful words, envelops you in poetry, makes you feel loved beyond anything you’ve ever known, is there for you day in and day out, someone whose voice you come to hear and love more than your favorite songs. And things change overnight (or over the weekend.) And where are the flaws that tell you there’s a good side to this… break-up? Can it even be called a break-up? What was it? How to define it?

[More:]


When it starts, every carelessly selected word is a brick laid down, building something that gradually grows to feel solid. Words can have the weight of bricks. And unlike us, they can also be perfect. There’s nothing to taint the words. Only other words. If you want them to remain perfect, all you have to do is think of the prettiest words you know and bunch them all together. When their author leaves, however, a hole is left where their meaning used to be. A hole as enormous as their beauty. A hole that wakes up with you every morning when the words used to. And tears. Tears that usher in your day when an idiotic ear to ear smile used to.

Words should be used responsibly. Being a talented writer takes responsibility. Words can’t just be thrown around at random as though they were inconsequential. That word shouldn’t even exist! Everything is of consequence. The consequence is what either matters to you or doesn’t. Words should be considered, weighed and deemed appropriate or not for any given situation. The words you connive with can easily become weapons, very much like bricks.

I once wrote in a journal somewhere: Writing is a cradling of words. An unconventional nurturing of words regulated by a symbiotic touch. A balancing act between seducing words into saying what you mean and agreeing to give them meaning beyond what they say… Now, I think maybe it has nothing to do with meaning… Often, it’s just your way of getting a reaction, it’s not like there’s any real meaning behind any given word.

When all this happens, crying and writing take the place of eating and sleeping as far as basic needs are concerned. You do sleep and you do eat but it takes a little effort. The hole rejects things all too easily. It just wants so badly to remain a hole, poor thing. It rejects even the words. It doesn’t even want the words anymore since they proved to be each and every one… worthless. It wants the meaning you ascribed to them. The meaning you see now… they never had.

You go around looking for a big, fat W. You just wanna feel WHOLE again. You know you will (you know you can be a resilient little thing) but only… (and here comes that pesky word I hate)… EVENTUALLY. Why pesky? Why hateful? Because it offers you hope but denies you immediacy, that’s why.

(Originally written and felt in February, 2007)

Currently shattering window panes with a rendition of…
Damien Rice - Elephant/9

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