In My Eyes

You need to have stood where I've stood, seen what I've seen, and felt what I've felt in order to understand. To understand the passion I carry in my soul for these things, and places, and people. 

We try so hard to convey too others why and how we cherish the things we do, but those things we truly love go beyond language. They speak to us at the basic level of our existence, they permeate our very beings, and they make us bigger because of it. This is love. It comes in many forms, and means many things, but it is simple, primal, profound, and beyond words. 

Shakespeare tried. He tried to write stories to convey love. He invented his own words. He failed. We've all tried, and we've all failed. Tried telling those we love, friends and lovers, that we love them and why. Beyond those three words everything else is empty. For something truly loved you cannot sum up in this limited language why and how you do so. You won't get close to letting them know how you feel. 

And that's the tragedy and the beauty of it all. We can love; we can love with our whole hearts, but no one else will ever be able to feel the true depth of that love. I can say I love skiing, but what does that mean to anyone else? Cool, you've got a hobby. But it's so much more.

It's a tricky thing, and it's best felt in the ache when the object of these affections are gone. Summer is dismal to me, so I carry winter in my heart. Which in any other circumstance could just mean I'm a cold-hearted individual; which I may be, but that's not being debated. It means that I carry this passionate love of the sport and lifestyle with me always. Same with everything else I hold dear: friends, family, places, and things. And that ache I feel when they're gone from me is heartbreaking.

But you can't know.

Because you need to have stood where I've stood, seen what I've seen, and felt what I've felt in order to understand how I love.