When I was ten years old, I stumbled upon a book written by a very old man. It was picked up by mistake then, but now I know that nothing in life is by mistake. The book was a written diary of the environment he shared with his wife of many years.
He described their home as a big box with many tiny boxes inside of it. He described his wife’s attitude towards him as cold and composed. He went on and on about these boxes and how they were filled with distant memories. Memories they shared that were unforgivable and unmentionable. So there they stayed in the tiny boxes, surrounded by melancholy.
The book seemed sad to me then, at ten years old and I couldn’t understand why anyone would be in that situation. Love to me, meant all those fuzzy and explosive feelings, ones I didn’t even fully understand yet.
We spend our entire lives walking around with those same big boxes. And little by little we fill them with the little boxes. We stuff all of our hurt, faults, and insecurities deep down. So deep that we hope they never come out again.
On the way to the airport, my fiancé of two weeks grabbed her own boarding pass out of our envelope and left mine. I panicked and freaked out not knowing why I hadn’t grabbed it myself. She is my fiancé isn’t she? So why wouldn’t she grab both of the boarding passes? We would soon be flying to England, and I’d never even been abroad.
The urges to flee the airports would come in waves, and as we scrambled through finding our way, I wondered why I’d done this to myself. Because the girl that I had spent five months with on the phone was right in front of me. Then in an instant, the person I’d dreamt forever to have was suddenly like a stranger to me. We both wandered around like shells of people, an out of body experience, unexplainable.
We then boarded the second and longest flight, where we weren’t sitting together. I was in tears most of the time and all of those tiny boxes started to appear. Haunting me like ghosts from the past and putting me in the most vile mood. Even she could tell, that I wanted to run, but something in me stopped me dead in my tracks. Love. I was a cold and overly emotional person all at once. Wanting to be embraced so badly, and at the same time wanting to be forever left alone.
But to love is to understand and accept a person for everything that they are. I lost all sight of what was important to me, and lost all grip with reality. A new kind of numbness over took me as the little boxes leaked everywhere.