sophalicious

The age old question – what does it mean to be loved? Or, alternatively, what is love at all?
Well, that depends on who you ask. I’ve always noticed and appreciated that the beauty in answering this question is that love is not so strictly defined. Love can be found everywhere if you’re looking. People everywhere have different definitions of love, and different expectations on how they wish to be loved.

The most common answer that I’ve seen is that to be loved is to be seen. To have the most important aspects of yourself recognised and appreciated by the person you love.
This can come in many different forms.
For example, if you mention that you hate tomatoes and your partner always makes sure your meals come tomato free, it’s typically indicative that they’ve paid attention to you and ensure that as a result, you’re taken care of. That you feel seen by them. That, to the majority of people, is what it means to be loved.

I don’t write this because I necessarily disagree, because I don’t in the slightest. It is a beautiful and welcomed feeling when my boyfriend remembers something small that I told him and pays attention to it. He knows my favourite Sanrio character and he knows my favourite artist, and has shown me that he remembers these things in his own ways.
But, in the interest of writing something somewhat thought provoking, I would like to bring a new perspective to the table.

Aforementioned favourite artist of mine, Ethel Cain, wrote “to love me is to suffer me”, and it is a lyric that has stuck with me since the first day I heard it. This comes from her song, Nettles, for anyone who may be interested in hearing it themselves.
However, this is not an Ethel Cain tribute, so I will move on.
I believe this particular take on the topic to be a less explored one, but still weighs just as true as the idea that being loved is being seen. In fact, I would argue that they almost go hand in hand.

The way that I’ve interpreted this lyric, how can you truly see someone if you can’t suffer them too? In the sense that, people are not inherently perfect. We hold our flaws very tightly in our hands, but they’re there nonetheless. We have suffered, bled, cried, fought, and done plenty that we probably aren’t proud of. And in that same breath, we have also had things happen to us that we aren’t proud of either.
So, in my eyes, to be truly loved as a person means that the bad has to be seen too. It’s one thing for someone to know your favourite artist or Sanrio character, but it’s another for them to know the way that you have suffered. It’s another for them to know the things that you’ve gone through – the good the bad and the ugly – and still love you the same.

When I talk about suffering someone, the way I look at it is that you don’t have to be unhappy with the person in the slightest. They could be the first breath of fresh air you’ve had in years. But if you truly love them, and you truly see them for everything that’s woven within their veins, you have to feel the way that they have suffered too. Suffering someone does not necessarily mean trapping yourself with someone that is making you unhappy – at least not in the way that I’ve looked at it. Suffering someone means to bare the same burden that they do. To see their pain and their flaws and carry it alongside your own.
I understand that lyrics are up for interpretation, and so I do recommend listening to the song to form your own opinion. I will never claim myself to be an expert, in fact I encourage discourse on the topic.

The summary is, the takes you see floating around the media as to what love is and what it should mean, each one is beautiful. The fact that so many people can see love in so many different ways and in so many different things is a testament to people as a whole. That there’s still good, that there’s still love, and that we are still actively seeking it in everything we do and everything we see.
However, I don’t wish to pretend that love isn’t to suffer someone. That to feel such a beautiful, complex thing doesn’t come with challenges and baggage. That doesn’t make it any less beautiful.

I find myself in love as I write this, and I’d carry that baggage for the rest of my life. The good, the bad, and the ugly.