Someone recently searched, I fall in love with someone who can hurt me. It led them here, to this trove of words and fragments and memories. This strikes me. This makes me feel part of something larger than me, part of someone else. I get more coffee because I feel like I have more thinking to do. I start wondering who this person is, and who it was they fell in love with, and in what ways were they hurt? I imagine an argument in an apartment in a city I have never been to.
Is is early in the morning and I am sitting at my white kitchen table. The weak winter sun tries its best to slip through our cheap blinds. I am thinking about being hurt. All I can hear in my head is the line from Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen coming through the speakers in our apartment. And we had a lyric book, it was small and black. I read it constantly one winter because he seemed to have figured out something with words which still eludes me. And he says, All I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who out drew you.
This feels important to tell you, whomever you are. We all learn this from love, how to be hurt and how to hurt other people. Sometimes love is nothing but throwing around boulders and seeing how large of waves you can make, how much you can get away with. This is not always the case, but I believe it true, that at least once we are on either end. Once in your life you will be torn to shreds, and once in your life you will do the tearing. I am still not sure which is worse.
I think the important thing to remember is how your pain, is a slice of something a little larger than you. It allows you to join the cannon of undeniably broken hearted. I’m not even sure how anyone can say they’ve ever truly lived if they haven’t been hurt before. It’s probably a terribly masochistic thing for me to say– to go out and get yourself hurt. But I think it’s one of the greatest things to ever learn.