Monday, April 26, 2010

olympic flame

I remember watching a short documentary about Bosnia a few years ago. They were showing burned out ruined villages superimposed upon tape of the Bosnia Olympics many years prior. There was audio of a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, talking about how she just couldn't fathom the flames. How many years before, the Olympic flame was so beautiful and hopeful, and now, flames were burning everything she loved. How could a symbol--the flame--be so different in so short a time?

Love is similar, it seems. One day, the person who could make you laugh just by being in the same room or make you smile with a gesture like a glass of water and the next, the same person will make you want to cry just by seeing one another. I imagine it is the very passion and love which drew you to that person is the same emotion that makes you feel visceral hate. It's because you loved one another that you hurt as badly as you do when it's over. It's not the person who changes, the person is the same. But it is what you associate that person with. Sure, you'd like to focus on the laughter and smiles and fun. But instead, all you can see in him or her is the pain and tears and sadness. Even if it wasn't caused by that person, like the flame, it is what one associates the person with.


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