My attention had been lapsing recently, capability to distinctly focus on anything diminishing with every mind numbing assignment I bored through. Affected by this, my science homework was resting carelessly next to me, open textbook still propped up against my raised knees even though I hadn’t turned the page or paid it any consideration in nearly an hour.
The light was shrinking from my walls, sun slinking out of the sky beyond my propped open window. Uncharacteristically mild weather was sweeping in, snow slowly melting and coating the sidewalks slippery outside. My room had seemed small and artificial when I’d clicked the door closed, unnatural yellow bulbs distorting the colors and shapes when I turned them on. This led me to leave off the lights and shove up the glass separating me from the still frosted air, curtains fastened open and wavering sun providing illumination.
Its eventual setting had me squinting at my textbook, dulled sunlight barley allowing me to make out the words, even with my glasses secure on my stupidly big nose. Naturally, I’d given up, letting the work fall away unfinished and shifting my gaze to the ceiling, eyes narrowing at the fading white.
I was splayed out on my bed, bare arms tingling as the breeze bit at them. I’d been beginning to think that Alex may be onto something with the whole constantly refusing to be logically warm thing. It was uncomfortable, sure, and my bones instinctively ached to cross and preserve the warmth being stolen from my skin, but, obviously, unnatural pleasures are often the most enjoyable. Pain and discomfort, as I’d found, contrary to what as thesaurus may say, were not synonyms for annoyances. Blades and cold pinching at my flesh tortured my body and soothed my mind. You’d think body and brain would work in unison and prefer to mutually benefit each other, but my head seemed to be irreparably fucked up, and had turned traitor on its counterpart.
Everybody does it all for different reasons, though. Alex had explained that he was always purposefully chilly because the sensation made him feel something, and anything was better than nothing. I liked it, plain and simple.
Although I wouldn’t quite mind if my boyfriend happened to be with me, perhaps laying with his stomach on my mattress in that position that I couldn’t figure out how he found enjoyable – but, knowing Alex, maybe the unpleasantness was the point – or settled in my arms, legs tangled through my messy comforter and heated skin contact flattening out his ever present goose bumps. My disturbed sense of humor and I found it somewhat funny that I was happily laying with winter air pricking my arms but would argue endlessly with Alex until he was safe and warm. It had yet to cease to fascinate me, the extent of people’s pure hypocrisy.
I had the next best thing, at least, my phone buzzing and vibrating on the bed next to me, screen projecting onto my dark walls. Rolling over to my side, my legs curled in, science book finally startling off of them as I grabbed the phone, reading Alex’s latest text. I had to scroll back through our exchanged messages to remember what we’d been talking about, focus having wandered carelessly away from the conversation after sending off my last words. Apparently, we’d been discussing the striking similarity between the titles ‘therapist’ and ‘the rapist’ as well as picking apart the supposed coincidences implications.
Laughing at our mutual idiocy, I wondered what on earth had me falling for this boy as I stretched onto my back again, legs straightening stiffly and arms hitting the plaster behind my head as my spine arched. Quiet groan concealed by the bone’s crack, my muscles relaxed again, yawn slipping through the quiet of my room while I started overanalyzing a different set of odd words.
Why do people fall in love? That phrasing isn’t applied to any other emotion or feeling. Nobody ever falls in hate or happiness or sadness. So who decided that that curious verb accurately described the route to completely experiencing love?
People descend into madness yet fall in love. The technical definitions of those verbs are extremely similar; the only difference is in the connotations. And that raises the slightly pressing concern, and often examined idea, that maybe strong affection and insanity are also closely related.
Also, every drop ends. A height can’t decrease forever. What, exactly, happens when the fall is over? What are the starting and ending points?
If the top of skyscraper is someone with no romantic interest and only platonic emotions, then what happens when they connect with the metaphorical sidewalk of full out love? Does the object of their affections catch them? But the couple should be taking the plummet together, so neither are already standing firmly on the ground and, therefore, can’t possibly prevent the other from slamming into pavement.
Maybe that’s the right answer, maybe that’s why romantic terminology is the way it is: I’d read plenty cheesy romances where the characters exchanged a look, suddenly realizing that they were irrevocably in love with each other, the moment often described by cliché authors as being like getting hit by a truck. And the similarities between a car smashing into you and hitting a sidewalk are astounding.
The same would happen with unrequited love, I suppose. Nobody grabs the faller and they connect painfully with the ground, without even another person beside them, holding their hand and living through the impact, to dull the crash.
It was prettier to think that perhaps that theory was incorrect, that wings would be grown before cement got met and bones crushed. Wasn’t that a nice idea? That two lovely strangers could take a leap of faith off a building, jumping into the uncertain abyss with one another, feathers blooming and the whisking wind carrying them away to live happily ever after once they complete the cycle and truly care for each other. That seemed way over romanticized, though – but, then again, is it even possible to further glamorize romantic relationships?
It could be different for everyone, possibly. I bet some sprung, dropped like a rock, and slammed without support. Others probably dove into an ocean, sinking slowly to the sea floor and balancing on their feet, unharmed and safely emerged; though they could choke on too much water. The nervous ones could bungee jump off bridge, reaching the full extent of the sensation before springing back and never returning, scared. And even more might feather float to the bottom before soaring into the clouds, dreamy and aloof in their unrealistic love. Like DNA; never the same for two people.
Still, the concepts of how people ended upin love were endless. All of my ideas could be complete bullcrap and some gooey-eyed hopeless romantics may very well have incorrectly pinned the word ‘fall’ to love in an attempt to pinpoint the right feeling. They were quite similar – the process of becoming in love and falling – from what I’d heard. The two shared dropping stomachs, disorientated brains, shaky limbs, tingling skin, and that drug rush. But falls are instantaneous, fast and fleeting, quite the opposite of what I wanted love to be.
Of course, I thought this all through in terms of my own life, contemplating whether or not I really was falling for Alex or if it was actually something else. Was I someone who’d crash, fly, or anticlimactically touch down? I guessed that I’d have to wait and see.
I’d never been in love, though it certainly seemed that I was on my way. Having never been a poet or desired the perfect term to assign to my emotions, I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d describe what was going on with my feelings for Alex. More like I was walking than falling, really. Taking miniscule steps down a hallway, opening tightly secured doors that exposed another bit of me as I went, towing Alex along and giving him strangely serious tour.
So the conclusion of that would be what, then? We’d make it to the end and emerge into the bright sunlight, rays of trusting love immersing us? That was cute, I liked that one. Most likely still inaccurate and lacking, but metaphors are rarely sufficient. Feelings can only be truly described in the closed off minds of those who have felt.
Realizing that I’d been consumed by my own disjointed thoughts once again and hadn’t texted my boyfriend back yet, I grumpily told myself off, sun having given up somewhere between my textbook hitting the floor and a figurative corridor being conjured up, artificial light of my phone the only source of color in my room.
With nothing else to contribute to the ‘therapist’ vs. ‘the rapist’ discussion, I started a new text and decided that Alex, of all people, should be happy enough to put up with my philosophical ramblings. I always kept my varied thoughts and unorganized ideas to myself with the general assumption that no one cared, but it was driving me a bit insane, head far too cluttered to be healthy and leave any space to think about normal, rational things. Maybe it was time to throw out some of the trash clogging up my head.
Finally, shrugging to myself, I figured that I might as well bounce the question off of Alex and see what he had to say about it, sending: Random, but why do people fall in love? Like, why fall rather than any other word?
I spent a couple minutes chewing mindlessly on my knuckles and staring blankly at my dim ceiling, one hand splayed over my stomach, legs shuffling and rearranging restlessly. A notebook accidentally got kicked off the mattress, me barely paying it any mind, too sucked into myself to care.
Eventually, the fingers still gripping my phone buzzed again. I smiled at it, reading through the message with a silly grin before rolling my muscles loose and sinking further into my blankets. I let out a content sigh, mind pleasantly distracted from the personal hate that usually ridiculed it.
Alex’s response was: I have absolutely no idea and will now be thinking about that forever. Thanks, babe. But you know what else is a weird word? Punctuated. I like it cause its a really punctuated word.
I chuckled quietly at him, pronouncing ‘punctuated’ out loud and joining my boy in being impressed by its perfect exemplifying of its meaning. Apparently, there was someone else on Earth who cared to riddle out words and noticed their oddities, and I had him. I had to have some luck, at least.
Rolling onto my stomach and pillowing my head in my crossed arms, I squinted critically into the darkness, concluding that while fall may not be the right word, it was the accepted term, and I was already strange enough without openly debating the phrases everyone used. Besides, it sounded nice, and I liked the picture of romantic relationships that that chosen verb painted, however unrealistic they may be.
And, ultimately, I’d always adored falling. It was amazing.
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Today happens to be my one year anniversary of joining this website. Coincidentally, I spent the last week camping, which is exactly what I was doing when I got the idea for my first fic, while lying on a tree and listening to walls (I think that that story was terrible, but you've got to start somewhere). Honestly, this year sucked, but at least this fanfic/writing aspect of it went pretty fucking well! Also, I think I'm getting back into the right mindset for this story and am much less stressed after spending some time communing with nature, so all is good. Relating to the actual chapter: anyone who's been in love, what do you think, is it like falling? Let me know, and please comment! (For some reason, I can't find it in me to edit this again. Sorry for any suckiness/mistakes.)
xoxo
Rose