A/N I've been thinking about what love is. And here are Sarah's musing post-Goblin King on the subject. I'd really love people to review with their own thoughts about love. Give Sarah a bit of advice, but I personally have no better answers for her. I mean if I knew anything about love, would I be sitting here writing fanfic to compensate? lol
What happens when you want a man you cannot have? When, if you let your mind wander, you can still imagine what it might be like if he held you in his arms?
What happens when you are a dreamer, and you have to wake up to the realities of the world, move on, and get things done in your life; but even as the years go by you still cannot forget?
What if, no matter what you try, you live like a shell, or like a body half awake?
Surely, there's more to me than desire or longing or the dream of union. Of course I can have a full and complete life on my own. Why on earth would I need anyone? That's patent nonsense.
More than nonsense. It's just not fair.
Why can't I forget?
Memories that don't even deserve an ounce of my soul overtake the hidden places in my heart. And no matter how hard I try to evict them, I find myself time and again helpless to dispel that telltale ache—like cold moisture seeping into the bones of my spirit.
How ridiculous—an ache for a man who was not even a man to me!
But here I am, Sarah Williams. Tall, adult, independent, efficient, somewhat accomplished, and haunted by an emptiness I cannot cure.
I've tried so many things. Even tried a few people. I suppose the effort to forget has led me on many great adventures I would not have otherwise been brave enough to attempt. Truth be told, my life has turned into an epic escape from the foggy eyed dreamer I used to be. A great adventure to blot out the old me forever. I blame the entire escapade on her. On myself, that is, the naïve girl, sickeningly passionate creature, ever so slightly out of touch with the real world.
But the more I try to keep my head on worldly matters, the less I seem to care for anything. The more I accomplish, the less joy I take in my accomplishments.
When I am honest with myself, I think I must have lost something that night. In the Labyrinth. And if I could only understand what it was I lost, I think I would be free. Free to be happy again. Free to accept that stupid little dreamer I started off as. Because let's face it, it can't be the man. It's just not healthy to pine away for fae gentlemen who steal babies and make absolutely no effort to be apart of your life!
Whatever, I digress. Life calls, and here I am talking to myself again.
But, no, if it's me I've got to fix, and I am to do the fixing on my own, I'm not sure if I understand anymore why anyone falls in love, gets attached to someone, or wants to share their life with another. If we're all supposed to be able to work things out for ourselves, why do we need one another in the first place?
Is love just a dirty trick? Or is it just a secondary commodity, a luxury item like whipped cream—latte being life—where you can easily drink it without the extra sugar, but pay a little extra now and then for something sweet?
Does it mean anything at all to feel love? Or if I just go through all the motions with all the people in my life, feeling nothing for them, is that sufficient? Am I healthier just trying to be a good person, but not wanting anyone for myself?
Damn. I've got to quit thinking like this.
I just wish I could answer my own questions.
I mean, what good are feelings, if the feeling that is the most real to me is in reality the most imaginary?
I wish I knew.
