The Whole World

It's easy to part with someone forever.  I know this because I've done it and because I've been shoved out of lives before.  I'm not unique to this.  Nor are you.  These normal life circumstances arise like growing older or moving on or just a simple case of new people.  It happens.

The whole world thinks they're unique to suffering or hurt.  You tell me a story of loss and naturally, I will tell you a story of my own loss.  I will one up you, so to speak.  But I will do so under the guise of trying to relate to you or comfort you.  I'm selfish.  So are you.

The easiest thing, we as people can do, is love.  It takes no effort.  Not only do we want to be loved, we want to love.  In fact, we have to love.  Something.  Someone.  Anyone.


I had this old job that required me to collect money for the newspaper.  One day, as I was looking at address numbers on a sidewalk in an unfamiliar neighborhood, I watched a car pull to the side of the road.  This woman opened her car door and pushed her dog out of it.  Then she drove off.  The immediate reaction of that dog was to chase her now former owner's car.   The dog just kept running and running towards the woman who rejected him.  I slowly drove behind the dog to see if maybe this was all a mistake; thinking the woman either accidentally let him out and would realize it or it was intentional and her conscience would get the best of her and she'd come back.

Neither happened. 

The dog stopped running once that car was no longer in his sight.  He stopped in the middle of the road; looked around at his unfamiliar surroundings and just laid down.  Right there, in the middle of the road, he just laid down.  It was as if he just gave up.  On everything. Everyone.

These two children came out of nowhere and approached this medium sized brown short haired dog.  Quickly, they had earned his trust.  As they turned to walk away, that dog followed them.  They took him home.

I sat behind my wheel and just thought to myself at what point do we become disposable to others?


I have loved three women in my life.  I mean, deeply loved.  I won't distinguish between a school boy crush and some mature grown up love because there is no fucking difference.  Two of those women have moved on.  Time, circumstances, fate, whatever; they've moved on.... One to fill her family albums with someone not me and the other, had an early expiration date.  Either way, both have moved on.  It hasn't diminished their meaning in my life.  I haven't stopped loving them.  Who could?

Love is so illogical.  There is no rationality behind who we fall for and why sometimes it just doesn't end as expected or even why two mismatched people work well together.  The whole world may roll their eyes or call us crazy for our choices but none of that matters.  If we take the whole world's advice and strive to fit their standards, that wouldn't be love.  That would be something else.  Something disposable.


It's so easy to give up or look to upgrade.  I know this because I've done it.  I've quit people before ever even giving them a chance.  I've quit people because I thought the whole world knew what was best for me and I based my standards and my integrity on their whispers.  And it's not right.


My unborn son will probably never get this speech.  Chances are, he won't even ever exist to learn what really matters versus what the whole world says matters.  And I'm okay with that.  I have to be.  Because I love him and the possibilities that exist within potential life. 

We have to love.  Something.  Someone.  Anyone.  Be it, real or hypothetical.  Love is limitless and illogical.  Not disposable.  Or even reasonable. 

The whole world wants the same damn things but they hold each of us to different standards than their own. 


A few months later, I returned to that neighborhood where that disposable dog was last seen.  And there he was... laying in the front yard grass where I last saw him with those two same kids by his side.  I'm certain that rejection he faced months earlier was long forgotten.  I'm certain that dog, those two kids; that new family couldn't have been more happy than they were at that moment.

The whole world loves happy endings but defines everything as tragedy or heartbreak with some misdiagnosed negative connotation attached to it.  

Nothing ends perfectly.  But everything ends. 

I suppose that is all I would ever need to tell my unborn son if he existed.