Written: 1/11/24 @ 12:34 am
Dear Diary,
Christmas and New Years has come and gone away. Now it’s almost Valentine’s Day. I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions about love, life, and soulmates as of late. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve definitely loved before, but now I’m asking myself have I ever been IN love. Has anyone ever been in love with me? How do you know when you’re no longer in love? How do you know when you are in love? But most importantly, what is love? WHO is love? I’ve asked the universe this question and I’ve stumbled across a few answers.
My first answer was in an Amazing World of Gumball episode titled “The Love.” They gave 10 definitions of love, but the one that stuck out most said: “Love is inexplainable.” And when they showed an example, they said… nothing. They struggled to find the words, so after much thought, Nicole and Richard Waterson decided showing is the best way to express your love and they gave each other a hug. This was very fitting for me and my Pisces Venus considering my love language is physical touch/action.
If you ask Rick from Rick and Morty, he would say “love is just a chemical reaction” in the brain. And of course we all know, whether we’re religious or not, that the Bible says “Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is slow to anger.” Then the dictionary says love is ”an intense feeling of deep affection.”
But what IS love? What’s MY definition of love? Well— I believe love is spiritual, of course. But it was my last answer from the universe that inspired me most to write this entry. You see, lately I’ve been doing more things that I loved to do when I was a little kid, like coloring and dancing, just to find the answer to these questions. Today, I decided to read poetry (and write some too). I was called to pick up the book Black Girl Call Home by Jasmine Mans. I read through the book, and the first quote that really called to me was from a poem titled Dear Ex Lover. It said “…apologies are like oxygen mask on a hijacker’s planes.”
I thought of the concept of love in itself. I thought about how it steals your breath away, and how when you’re on cloud 9, you don’t consider the possibility of crashing and burning. It’s because you’re hypnotized by its beauty. It’s funny how with the phrase “fall in love,” we never consider the former. We never consider the falling part, and the possibility of nobody catching.
Why do we call it “fall in love” anyway? Why can’t we say fly? Why don’t we “fly in love”? Doesn’t love make us feel like we’re soaring? Isn’t that why we call people love birds? Because when you love, you see life from a different perspective. A Birds Eye View if you will.
Anyway, I never liked flying until the day I realized it’s the closest thing we have to understanding birds. To seeing what they see, which is hope. Possibility. A bigger picture that most people miss because they never see what’s right in front of them until the opportunity passes by. Until it’s too late.
As I was reading today, I realized people are a lot like books. Everyone is constantly writing their own stories. But the irony is… most people don’t like to read. But isn’t that what love is? Being able to read in between the lines of your person? Being able to quote what they’d say without even having to read what comes next because you know their character so well?
Jasmine says “you must forgive yourself before you forgive the person next to you.” I also think you have to come to terms with the fact that some people aren’t even sorry, and some people don’t want to be saved. Not by you, and not from themselves. So stop having that S on your chest (and in my case… on my mind).
And speaking of safety and protection, there’s a poem in here about a single mother and her 3 babies. It’s about a mother who’s doing the best she can with what she has, and it may not be much, but she makes it work. I think this is a metaphor for my mama and me, and our relationship. Jasmine said the word “bitch” should never slip through the daughters lips. Not even on accident. Never put nothing on your momma, not even a word as simple as that. Because even on her worst days when she has nothing else to give, the mother still gives us her all, even when all she has are poetic prayers and a pot of chili on the stove. She will pour from a cup half full just to give you a good meal, and she’ll use the last of her energy to pray that God gives you strength.
This is the true first love. The love of the mother. The love of the person you will be part of for the longest before you become whole.
And in evaluating my own mother/daughter dynamic, I understand some people better. I think of my friends who have started families. They’re parents with priories. The child comes first now, not the parties. Not other people. I mean, I get it. My parents put me first. And if they’re anything like my mom and dad, they’re willing to do anything for them at any time.
I also think of my first love, and the first time he ever held my hand as I cried on my very first flight. My tears matched the rain hitting my window pane. My foot tapped rhythmically in anxiety, in fear of a possible fall. He gave my hand a squeeze and said “Relax, Jay. Not all planes go down. Some get lost.” He laughed at his little joke, and I gave it a chuckle (because I really liked him), but I don’t find it so funny anymore. He has his own little nest now, and it makes me think… maybe we never never really were love birds. Maybe it was just puppy love, and maybe that was for the best. Maybe our plane didn’t crash, despite the fact that I honestly still feel like I’m picking up the pieces of something that’s been broken. Maybe he’s right. Maybe planes do get lost. Maybe our plane got lost. Maybe it’s stuck in limbo. Maybe we were on flight 828 and we manifested differently. Maybe he loves some other lil bird now lol who knows? But it’s okay, because I know why caged birds sing, and I’ve since decided to learn a different tune. I’m not really in my love bird era anyway. I’ve been feeling like a butterfly lately. Maybe even a tigress.
It’s the year of the dragon though according to Chinese astrology. I understand why I kept seeing them everywhere now. I realized that I can’t keep waiting for someone else to come save me— to have that S on their chest. I’m learning that this princess is saving herself. I got my own dragons to slay and my own demons to face. I mean, who said princes don’t have their own problems? Why should I expect them to come solve mine?
This realization is self love.
I’ve also come to the conclusion that we’re all just lost souls trying to find ourselves. Figure out our place in the world and why we’re here. And in a spiritual world of uncertainty, one thing’s for sure— we loved two other lost souls so much, that they found each other just so we can one day find them and call them mom and dad again. We are our ancestors returned. And I’m not going to lie, I had a very hard time accepting my first love had his first child, and it wasn’t with me. But then I realized he missed someone so much that they reincarnated just for him. They came back to love him. To give him a kind of love I could never give. Children choose their parents, and parents choose their children. But the parents also chooses their partners. Thus creating:
The love of the child.
He’s made his choices, it wasn’t me, and I’ve made my peace. I didn’t want to be picked anyway. Once flowers are picked, they no longer grow.
Maybe I shouldn’t have fallen so hard anyway. And honestly, I do find myself missing and thinking of him sometimes. But it’s my own fault. I only have myself to blame. But hey. What can I say?
That’s just the first love.
So if this is the first love, what does it feel like? It’s like when you’re learning how to tie your shoes by yourself for the first time, but you just can’t get it right! And since you don’t know how to tie them, you ask someone else for help. But instead of tying them individually, they tie the laces together. Love is like God (or Cupid) tying your two shoe laces together to watch you fall because he thinks it’s funny and he gets a little laugh. He tells you it’s just a joke, there’s no catch. But what he doesn’t tell you is that sometimes someone will catch you, but more often than not, they won’t. Maybe I shouldn’t have flew. I could’ve looked at the world without a Birds Eye view. I mean— I’ve always been a careful person. I’ve learned from Icarus.. I never wanted to fly too close to the sun so I don’t get burned. But you know what? I wouldn’t have gotten so close to cloud 9 either if I knew how bad it hurts to leave it… to be loved and lost. I could’ve been content just knowing love exists. I could’ve simply just loved the idea of love even if I didn’t experience it. I could’ve treated love like a star and admired it from afar. I may not be able to touch it or see it up close, but at least I know it’s there. And I can day dream and wish that I’ll reach it one day.
Maybe love is the person who shows you the whole universe from a Birds Eye View (because the world just isn’t big enough). Maybe I should’ve waited for my rocket-ship and star struck lover instead of settling for planes and cloud 9. Because clouds are just air… they’re only sorta there.
Maybe love is the person who not only promises to catch you, but who would catch a falling star for you too (because the clouds just aren’t good enough). No cloud, not even cloud 9, can catch you. They’re a water that doesn’t drown you— they just evaporate. They sort of… go ghost. You can’t put a cloud in your pocket and never let it fade away. We need something that burns close to our heart forever to represent our love. We need something only time and space can give. Birds Eye views and planes only give dimensions, and that’s only part of the equation. It’s only part of the science behind love. So maybe Rick was wrong… love is more than chemicals. Its chemistry! It’s physics. It’s time, depth, and space. Love is electricity, and it’s spark, and it radiates.
And I guess that’s the difference between fire and water. One has that flame, and the other person puts it out. But I don’t think that’s what the movie Elementals was trying to teach us. It seemed like it was trying to say fire needs water. And water needs fire. And sometimes opposites do attract. Maybe that’s polarity. Maybe it’s just a different kind of electricity… it’s a magnetic charge.
But I don’t know. I can’t even seem to find my chemistry with anyone, so what would I know about the physics of love? Maybe a little bit (cause for the record, I totally aced physics in college).
But you see, good grades and intelligence aside, I go stupid for the stars in peoples eyes. I’ve settled for even a little twinkle of light, even if theirs didn’t shine as bright as mine. Maybe I shouldn’t have fallen or flown. I should’ve stayed neutral— feet on the ground where it’s safe. But then again, gravity is a bitch and you can still trip and fall in love either way.
Maybe people treat love like a God because even though we can’t physically see it, we’d like to believe it’s there. But maybe Amazing World Of Gumball is right. Love is in actions. It’s in affirmation. It’s in respect and care. Love will speak to you and God does too. Maybe love really is a God. Maybe she’s a Goddess. I mean hello?? Aphrodite anyone?
It’s funny because I had a cold on New Years Eve and I couldn’t go anywhere. I had to stay home, and I asked the Gods “Why? Why do you want me to be alone?” I got up and walked away from my phone (mind you it was locked), and when I came back, it was open on a looping video that said “before God ever next levels you, he separates you. Stop calling it loneliness. You’re not alone, you’ve been separated.” It said God separates you for 3 reasons:
- To give you tools necessary for your destiny.
- To train you to get to know his voice because when you’ve been around too many voices, it drowns him out. You can’t hear him. You won’t know his voice, from your voice, from your mamas voice, from your friends voice, from your partners voice, from your siblings voice. You need to decipher… differentiate. Know Gods voice.
- To disappear and come back better. To glow you up and teach you how to brighten your light! To be unrecognizable.
The fact the Gods somehow sent me this video was amazing. I am TELLING YOU my phone was off when I walked away. I no longer shall question them, but give them a chance to say what they have to say. To give me the answers I know I need.
And that’s the love of God. Of the Gods. Of the Goddesses.
A love from a being that you can’t see but whom you know is there because they go out their way to show you. And the thing is, love is just a word. You’d never know if it’s there… if you can believe it… without the action. And another thing… my name. I’ve been so busy trying to make a name for myself, figure out what my name means, figure out what my name IS, and even wishing I had someone else’s last name—— that I forgot to find myself along the way. There’s no point in making a name for myself when I don’t even know who I am.
Like I said to myself on NYE, it’s just me, myself, and I at the end of the day. When I look in the mirror, I’m the only one I have to face.
It’s so funny I was called to read this book today, Black Girl Call Home. Because this black girl was called to stay home on arguably the biggest party night of the year. I mean, I’m sexy. I’m single. I should be out, right? And upon writing this, I understand why. It was to reflect and recall. To plan and pray.
And I almost didn’t write this today. As a Scorpio, I love to keep my secrets, and this is so revealing. It’s so vulnerable. But you know what she also says in this book? Don’t be afraid to love someone in permanent ink. Because I’d rather my story be written in love than in wrath. Even though I wear my heart on my sleeve, at least my outfits look good. And hey maybe one day, I’ll look back on this and laugh.
I chose a poetry book to ponder on life because I think poetry is a metaphor for love. You can also tell Jasmine Mans put a lot of love into this book. And keep in mind, my thoughts on love change like the wind, it just all depends on what kind of season I’m in. Despite it being winter, my heart is in spring. It’s been growing things. The pieces of my heart that were broken? Where they threw dirt in the cracks and holes? I turned my heart into a vase, and put flowers in their place.
I promised myself I’d write more poetry this year, and I chastised myself while writing this. For running off into tangents and forgetting to rhyme. But as I’m rereading this I realized, this is poetry. I may not have always rhymed, but I did always keep it real. It’s a metaphor for my meaning of love. It’s poetry— music— to my own ears.
So again, what is love? Love is the mother. The mother with callouses on her fingers from how tight she holds her hands in prayer, or her pen while writing poetry, as she prophesies a future she wishes to provide for you. Love is the mother with food stained clothes because she doesn’t care about a little tomato sauce or fry grease on her favorite flannel, as long as she cooked for you. As long as you ate good today.
Love is the child. An infinite love that never goes away. A love where you know your parent is a super hero without the cape. The person that has that S on their chest for YOU, only you. And you still love them even long after you’re an adult who’s learned of their mistakes. This is a love money can’t buy. A love that truly travels through time and follows you in different lives.
Love is for yourself when you realize that you can’t always save someone else. It’s the love that you should be taught first, but more often than not, it’s a love that’s taught too late. For some, it’s taught after their first child. For others, it’s taught after the first heart break.
Love is realizing that it’s something you can’t find or make. And love isn’t as simple as glass slippers and the one that got away.
Then there’s the first love. That’s a love you never forget. The love that still J walks across your mind, even subconsciously, long after you should’ve moved on. It’s what you think love is until you later come to realize it was just infatuation. Or all in your imagination. Maybe at the time, it really was real to you, but then you have to come to ask, why didn’t it last?
Then there’s the last love I mentioned, but it’s arguably the most powerful. That’s the love of God. Or the universe. Source. The creator. Whatever you call him, her, them, it represents a love that’s bigger than yourself. The love that teaches you how to properly love the world, yourself, and everyone else.
I’ve come to the conclusion that anybody can be your kindred spirit. Anyone can be your soulmate. Anyone, anything. It could be a parent, a partner, or even a pet. It could be a friend or another family member. So this is a poem to my soulmates— a letter to everyone I love or have loved in the world: To my mother and my sisters. Thank you for loving me through my craziness and semantics. This is a letter to my friends— thank you for listening to all my dramatics. This is a letter to all the lover girls and hopeful romantics. I pray you find the love you long for when you look at the stars and make a wish. I hope you find your Naveen, Princess Tiana, and there are no more frogs left to kiss. This is a letter of how to love for my future children— you’ll give me a love I’ve yet to know. This is a letter to my future love— I’m sorry it took me so long to grow. This is a letter to my inner child. Thank you, for learning how to love yourself. This is a letter to my estranged family, thanks for nothing. You were no help. This a letter to my first love. I’ll always love you and I wish you the best. This is a letter to God. Thank you for loving me though sometimes I fail your test. This is to my father. We never see eye to eye, but I’ll always love you from a (Jay) Birds Eye View. This is a letter for me and this is a letter to you.
YES, YOU! The person reading this diary one day. To my ancestors snooping around in the attic long after I’ve passed away, blowing the dust off these diaries to see what I had to say. To the archeologist digging this up from dirt trying to figure out if this is worth the museum display. Just know, whether you believe this is art or not, from this diary many flowers have grown. That’s why the front cover is of a rose. My pen was the thorn that cut into me deep, dripping the blood that I then used as ink. This is to you… trying to figure out what happened to that torn out page. Chances are… it had one too many mistakes. Or maybe I wrote something I no longer wanted to say. So I ripped it out and turned it into a paper plane. On its wings, I wrote other things, like all the places I yearn to travel, and who I wish to be one day. And then I released it from my hands and let it fly away. I let it go so my words can grace the skies. I hope it’s soars past the clouds and lands on the star I’ve been wishing on (like Princess Tiana) since I was 5.
And can I tell you guys a secret, because I just love you guys SOOOO much?? This wasn’t really an article. I mean— it wasn’t meant to be an article. This was a diary entry. So why did I let you guys read so deep into my soul and thoughts? Because I don’t think there’s any truer love than opening yourself up and allowing people to see you for who you really are.
I hope you have a happy Valentine’s Day bougie brujas 💜 and if no one else tells you, just remember I love you.
I made a playlist in connection to this article for all my little loved birds and singles <3 Check out these singles! https://t.co/f7xPrdqf34