Bratty Girl

What if love is like a cake? This piece is for you, no really, keep it. And this piece is for you; don't eat it up all at once. This piece is for my first love, another for my second, another for my third, and another for that one I should never have loved but did. Am I going to run out of pieces?

I'm being serious! Is my heart now riddled with empty slices? What if I gave the whole cake to my first love, who returned it tattered and melted. It has got so much abuse how could I possibly love some as deeply, richly and perfectly as the first time. I don't want to swap my last pieces of tattered messy mud cake, for someone else's half eaten and spat out cherry cheesecake. At some point, do we all just out of cake?

Here I am, sitting on my balcony, depressed yet again about another love lost; I have started thinking and yet again theorizing the big LOVE thing. I think this theory is called paranoia. It's called fear. It's called the thought processes of anyone who has lost love. Are these very thoughts killing any chance we have to find new love? Are we scared that our slices are getting smaller? Smaller proportions of commitment are being given out because people are just too scared to commit the fat slice that still has the icing rose on it in case it gets thrown back into our face. My point is, should we just stop, give up, take the cake down from the window display and just savour those last few pieces for ourselves? Or is that selfish?

Fortunately for us, there are other interpretations of love. As you can tell my musings come from a dark place better know as the place we are left after a "break-up". After everything is discussed, analyzed and separated, after the fires have been put out, all that is left is the empty feeling inside. In some comfort, when I told my mother my "cake theory" she laughed in my face. She laughed at me, and showed me what happens when you apply the theory to the love you have for your kids. It is not like a mother gives separate slices - varying in size - to the children she has; she loves each of them the same.

And maybe laughing at me was what opened my eyes. In every relationship I was hurt equally as much every time, which proves I loved all of them as much as I could. I can love this person with all of my cake. I love my mother with all of my heart. As with the person I'm seeing. Same goes for my best friend too. Love is not sectioned off like slices, but given wholly multiple times, in varying degrees, to numerous people. But then again, that's just another theory isn't it?

All I know is, when it comes to break ups and the lonely place we all find ourselves after each one, it's nice to know that a theory out there can give me hope. Hope that everything might just be okay. Perhaps it won't be though. After all, a theory is only a theory.