W. G.The Woven Guild

March 3rd, ‘26.

“Love comes to you when you least expect it.”

The statement enraged me to my core, until it didn’t. Thereafter, somehow, I found myself torn between the pain of suffering and the pain of acceptance – trying to choose which suffering one finds maximum solace in. The answer, I never truly could figure, only, the heart has a hideously absurd and tormenting way of submitting to triggers, however paltry, which tell you – one never escapes pain, they only learn to live with it.

I digress.

Love’s never lost – it’s only transformed. From platonic to romantic. From romance to grief. From everything to nothing (but even nothing holds value in the human heart – ask a poet!).

The apparent loss of love is a bittersweet feeling. Part of you celebrates having loved so deeply, another grieves the loss, while another wonders “why did anything even conspire to begin with?”. It’s akin to a shot of change, of grief, of the natural but repugnant nature of love – provocative and poisonous. ‘The illumination of the heart is the one before you realise it’s a nuclear explosion raging within you’ is precisely how I felt about certain people’s love lives. Rotten relationships holding two uniquely rotten souls together. It was sad, indubitably, but all that a cynic needs more than anything is perpetual affirmation. How frightening is love, and how intricate? Nobody has ever been able to truly define love, or gauge the aftermath of it with ineffable precision.

Maybe something cannot, and should not, be measured. Especially something with a conspicuously ulterior nature of switching lanes erratically and most drivers consequently crashing.

The next time you allow someone to hold the last two fingers of your hands, don’t think of the ways it could go wrong and how both of you would fail to make up for it, and the next time you let go of the same hand, don’t let the entirety of your being mourn forever, let a corner of your heart do the job, and let your mind cherish all that was.

Take the love within you, use it to its best, only never, never think you wasted it, even if it’s misguided, even if it’s misused.

Bittersweetness is – to a certain extent – inherently marred, but more than anything, it’s didactic, and beautifully so.