Why Love?

When you are me, this topic is absolutely unavoidable in writing. It’s aggravating, I know. I hate it, but I’m always writing about it because in a way I am helplessly obsessed with the notion of it.

Why does it take so long to find?

Why does it “always feel right”?

How many times can it happen?

Can one love two different people at the same time?

How do you know?

Is it bad if you never know?

What IF you never know?

All of these questions nag at me often, mostly because my love life is so sedentary that I have nothing better to think about. I may have been in love once in my life, and I’m a little bit ashamed to know that the person was someone I should not have loved for many reasons; Most of which I wish not to go into yet.

See, at the time I had no idea that I was in love. It did not hit me like a ton of bricks and leave a large purple bruise on my face, nor did it cause angels to sing a heavenly chorus at the sight of them. It went right past me like a silent breeze, and I even though I felt it, it did not leave anything physical. It slipped through my fingers as though I were clenching water in my fists.

Now I now that it was love because of the impact this individual left in my life. They came in and left fingers prints everywhere. All over my heart especially. The type of love I was in was not the healthy kind though. It was the kind that was not reciprocated. I loved them, but they did not love me. The only way that I could get away from it, and I desperately wanted to, was to pull myself away quickly. It was a disturbing blend of emotions. Elation, desperation, and depression.

I am not completely over the individual, but I am at a much better place than I was. It once got so bad that I lost my appetite for two days because I had slightly offended them. I went to California last summer with too much time to think, and they completely took over my process of thought, interrupting any regular train of thought.

Things have changed.

Now my heart does not jump at the sound of their name

their voice

their laugh, ringing throughout the hallways.

I don’t get envious when I see them with a significant other. I feel something, but not envy. An understanding or happiness perhaps.

I don’t feel ecstatic when they hug me tightly anymore. It reminds me of pain, not joy.

Most of all, I think I can now handle the fact that all of the things I knew from them, about them, have not been the complete truth.

Why Make A Blog?

The reasons that I decided to create this blog, which no one will really see.
+ I had only one blog that I really stuck to, and although no one reads them I find it liberating to be able to write abstractly about things that effect me.
+ I’m a writer, so any practice I can get will ultimately help me.
+ I don’t really have a best friend with whom I could share these feelings, descriptions, and expectations of life.
+ Don’t get me wrong, I have friends. But I haven’t had a “Bestie” since seventh grade. I am now in 11th and it really sort of sucks.
+ I’m not on here looking for friendship, but any sign that someone out there is reading is exciting.
+ I’m thinking perhaps I shouldn’t begin my postings with something like this.

I wanted to do something different, but I do intend to explain the title of the blog.

The title means a lot to me, because of it’s metaphorical meaning. I can not assume anything about the reader’s intellegence, therefore I will put the definition of Touchstone to possibly remind, reassure, introduce, or refresh.

Touchstone: 1 : a black siliceous stone related to flint and formerly used to test the purity of gold and silver by the streak left on the stone when rubbed by the metal 2 : a test or criterion for determining the quality or genuineness of a thing 3 : a fundamental or quintessential part or feature.

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/touchstone

Now as the touchstone can identify genuineness, it is important that people are also able to distinguish the true quality of the things in life. Although something may look dazzling, sparkling with the glint of newly polished gold, there can be much deceptiveness in it. It can be wrapped in a tainted aura that can only be decieved by the touchstone, and at times these things are hard to catch.
It is beneficial for people to have such an insight on their own lives. Elements that surround them daily are the pieces of gold and silver constantly in question, and our better judgement is the touchstone, black and heavy with a secret knowlegde. It is something that can not be imitated. By writing things out I find my own tablet of touchstone, and I am better able to assess happenings that occur daily.

Of course it is rare that one finds pure gold. But just as 24 carats of gold are charming, a single carat looks just as elegant.