Drifting in the Space of Ramblings

Ramblings About Love

As I float in this infinite with too much empty space between me and anything else that exists, I realize how everything around me is cold. It's only then that I realize terms like "cold" and "empty" are almost synonymous with my existence when it comes to love.

I've been cruel to some women, it's true. Now I regret it; I could have been happy with any of them. Not that I'd prefer to be sitting on a couch now, watching football and stroking my enormous belly with a beer can beside me while my supposed wife cooks steak and fries in the kitchen. No, I'd rather die among the stars a thousand times than have had a mediocre life. I won't be hypocritical just because I have oxygen for a few hours; I won't fall into that cheap cliché face to face with death, because I never disregarded the risks of this profession. Being an astronaut has nothing to do with my abandonment of love.

Love is something that catches us by surprise, but it's not just the desire to be with another person, it's not just the pleasures of sex, and it's certainly not just the desire to perpetuate your bloodline... Love is primarily about respect. There was a girl I think I was in love with when I was fifteen. I never kissed her, never slept with her, but we could talk for hours on end, and we both respected each other's feelings. Maybe she loved me, so she tried to hide from me that she was dating an older guy. On the other hand, maybe I loved her too, and that's why I always did everything to make sure she never found out about the girls I was seeing. Sometimes I even wonder if we didn't suspect that our love existed. It was a pity; we ended up drifting apart from each other so we wouldn't hurt each other.

At twenty-two, I asked my girlfriend to have an abortion from an irresponsible pregnancy. She refused at first, but I ended up convincing her... I didn't think about her or the baby... I could only think about myself. I didn't want to be a father, didn't want that baby, and especially didn't want to have to look at that girl's face for the rest of my life. I thought for a long time afterwards about what our life would have been like if we had kept the child. It weighs on my heart today, at the time it didn't even occur to me whether that would have any effect on me or not. She never wanted to see me again, and her face comes to mind vividly at this moment. I wonder if I ever loved her for a moment.

Is there a love that passes?

It's this question that makes me believe that I've never loved anyone. Maybe I've only felt passion. Lucky is the one who loves, because when I ask myself this question, the only answer that comes to mind is "no". Pure and true love is the one that endures through time, that is infinite like this space I find myself wandering in now.

I'm alone, but I don't want to think about loneliness.

The only thing I really wish I had done in life is to have loved someone, but I think I failed. I hope I'm wrong about this.