“Be alone, love from afar. Do not say you love someone – you will leave them. Do not let anyone say they love you – they will leave you. Everybody leaves if they get the chance, it never ends and people always want more.”

Text by Jack Cain
image by Lauren Field

This story is to be read whilst listening to Sigur Ros-Ara Batur.

When I was about 13 years old, I would hurl myself out of bed every morning, make my lunch and walk out the door to school. So did you, (unless you were home-schooled) I’m sure of it. I hurled myself out of bed with sheer excitement for what my eyes longed to see each morning. A girl – the prettiest girl I had ever seen at the tender age of 13. She was everything, she was my whole world, she was the reason that I went to English, the reason that I always got the bus which came early instead of the bus that came late. She was my reason. Her name was Sarah, I never ever spoke to her, and I loved her so god damn much, and she would always be smiling with her friends. To see her happy was all I ever wanted. It was the perfect version of an unrequited love. Okay, so, at the time, I didn’t think it was perfect. I wanted to be the reason that she was smiling, I wanted to talk to her every day. I wanted her to tell me that she loved me, and I wanted to grow up and marry her – I really, really did. One of the cool guys ended up dating her instead. They started dating around when we were 16, she stayed with him until she was about 20 and when they broke up – she killed herself. The day before she hung herself she called me and told me all about her relationship, and made me promise that I’d never fall in love with anyone ever. That was the first and last time that we had ever spoken. To this day I’m still confused about so many things, and while I maintain no anger towards her, I really wish that I could ask her how she knew I would answer if she called me, I would ask her where she got my number, and why she called me and not one of the other people in her life. Over time it’s become easier with that frustration of confusion. After all, she is dead, I’m never getting the answers I want or need. I’ve had to find new ways to close that part of my mind. I really did love her though. She was the first.

Next came Mary, of course none of these girls are getting their real names, you can expect them all to be named quite generically, the last, really only suits the name she was born with, but I can’t even type it anymore. But Mary, me and Mary had something, some kind, quiet, not very loud, thing. The only reason she even gets a mention is because she was the girl I lost my virginity too, we still talk now and again. That happened when I was younger of course, less emotive. I do miss you Mary.

Ah fuck it, this is the real one, the one I wish I never spoke too, the reason that I’m writing this fucking rubbish on my screen. This is the one that built me up, buttercup and let me the fuck down, this is the one that came in and said I love you so much, and then walked out and said I don’t anymore. This is her, the reason you all should fear it more than death itself, the reason everyone should look for an air raid shelter the next time you feel the tiniest inkling of emotion for a human in that way. Call me old fashioned, but old fashioned love doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just blatant fucking fact, it’s like we are wired to want more, and not more of what we have, either. That’s how it used to be – you wanted more of what you had, more of the person you loved, you wanted them all the time, you wanted them near you, with you, on you, in you. Now everyone is so fucking scared of missing out on who they are when they are alone that they completely and utterly disregard, and bomb the fuck out of, who they could be as someone in love. And yes, I say they are scared, and you most assuredly are scared. You, the real one, are fucking petrified of loving me. I don’t blame you though, because we are all afraid.

This was her, it still is her, and always will be her. I really don’t want to be that guy, but I am that guy, and I told myself I would be whoever it is that comes naturally from within me. I still believe in love, in fact I still believe in her to be more precise, and I won’t be scared when the next person comes along if they ever do, but to go back to my first story, the best part about it was that Sarah never fucking said a word to me, and even when she did the very next thing that happened was that she was dead and I couldn’t talk to her ever again. And what I’m trying to say is – it’s just best if you never, ever hear anyone say anything. I’ll quote J.D Salinger here: “Don’t tell anyone anything, or you’ll miss everyone.” And to make my own version of this, and write out a sad truth: Block your ears when you hear someone about to say the words I love you, because it’ll be the most believable lie you are ever told. I promise you now, being deaf in a world full of lying lovers wouldn’t be half bad, but I’m sure that will just comes across as ignorance to deafness. But just ask anyone who’s ever been in love. I’m sure anyone who has loved and lost would much sooner break their arm instead of their heart. You have to walk around with that broken heart, you have to go to school or to work, or to your friends, you have to or else you yourself might end up like Sarah – dead from a broken heart. How stupid you will look if you do end up like that. Oh god, I beg you, all who read my incoherent ramblings! Know that love is real, but it’s not whatever you think it is. Love is its own commander, you have no say – the person who says they love you and the people you tell that you love – we are all just swallowing white lies fed to us by the movies. Romance isn’t dead, but it also doesn’t live forever. It’s recycled air. Air that has been polluted by the imaginations of children, and by TV. You want real love? Most of it is in books and it all ends the same way: there’s always more than two people involved, sometimes there’s only one. How god damn important! Yes, to be alone in love, my whole point lost in all of this from the start. Be alone, love from afar. Do not say you love someone – you will leave them. Do not let anyone say they love you – they will leave you. Everybody leaves if they get the chance, it never ends and people always want more. So if you are reading this, please come to my door, please answer my calls, please. You are her, you will always be her. I love you.