if this isn't nice
story and art by Kazu Kibuishi
Why is it that to fathom the depths of emotion, it is necessary that one must sink? Why is the measure of love loss?
A human relationship is indeterminate, but only for so long as it lasts; tenuous as it is uncertain, a measure of the worth of a relationship necessarily disturbs its existence. Physics in the metaphysical.
You might say: a rose is a rose is a rose. A friend, is; a significant other, exactly that. But we are in the business of relationships, the subtle threads binding you and me, thrown carelessly into the loom we share - sometimes interweaving, sometimes not - and therein lies value. And so it goes that we have 'best' friends and 'better' lovers, whatever that means. We do. But one really doesn't know any better until he has had a basis of comparison in loss. Relationships never feel as valuable as they are until they cease, or, with any luck, are stretched until they almost aren't.
Turn from the twine to the gossamers. When does a prospect cease to be, and become an object of affection? Once you've lost the casual touch, perhaps, or if you've been turned down one time too much. Or chances are that you've turned down another, and a friendship that once was, well, is torn asunder.
It does seem that way.
The value of what one has, however, is immaterial to one's enjoyment of it.
Kurt Vonnegut once said, "I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'"
I would do that. For every small moment of sheltered calm derived from a relationship, fragile and transient though it may be.
Now if I've made an impression on you with whatever I've had to say, at the risk of sounding maudlin, we've shared a relationship of sorts, and come to a common understanding. I'm not sure what relationship that is exactly, but if this isn't nice - I don't know what is.
[fin]
