Unrequited Love

I'd like to share a couple things I have written with you here. Usually I don't do that on this blog, I save that for my blog, Waiting Tables, but I'm making an exception in this case. Firstly, because it's a twofer, secondly, because I have a point (I think) that I want to make.

First was something I wrote this summer after re-reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in preparation for the final movie. It's not really a creative piece at all, it was just me venting.

I read the books, I see the movies. It’s all romantic and tragic. It’s beautiful and I love it. But I don’t understand it.
Let’s take Severus Snape, for example. He’s tragically in love with Lily who ends up married to Snape’s rival: James. And then she dies. And Harry comes to Hogwarts as a daily reminder of Snape’s lost love.
I just don’t understand how he could survive such pain. Every day being reminded of how she doesn’t love him. Endless torture. I don’t understand how anyone could ever be so strong. How you could ever be happy.

Second is the closest thing to "unrequited love" that I have ever put in to my novels. This is from The Gisola Trilogy, the third book: Skotad. So there may be quite a few things that are unexplained that will have been in the previous two novels. I think, however, that it won't particularly matter for this scene.

I could barely see him through the tears in my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so young. The hundreds of years that had passed meant nothing, absolutely nothing. I had found him. He was alive.
Ionah let out a shuddering breath and I suddenly realized the toll the several hundred years had taken on him. How small his hand was as he reached up, fingertips brushing my cheek with a frighteningly soft touch. I clutched his hand, biting back a sob.
“I’ve missed you,” I whispered hoarsely. He smiled weakly.
“You’re so beautiful, Zesima.”
And for the first time in years, I actually felt like it. I chuckled.
“I’m old, my love.”
Ionah smiled. “Age has been good--” He broke off, gasping for breath. My heart cried out in pain for him. I let go of his hand, moving to hold his head steady. I ran my fingers through his snow white hair tenderly.
“Shh,” I whispered. “You’re all right.”
His breathing seemed to normalize and I leaned down to press my lips to his forehead.
“I love you, Ionah.”
“I-I love you as-as well, my dear...”
He was shaking. Trembling. My heart jumped to my throat. His lips twitched into a smile.
“I’m-I’m so... happy t-to...”
Another slight gasp and the trembling stopped. Ionah’s pale eyes glazed over, staring blankly into nothingness. Without my consent, a heart wrenching sob burst through and I pulled Ionah’s head into my chest, allowing myself to mourn the man I’d just found again.

Now what brought all this on? As my previous post suggests... I've fallen in love with James McAvoy. No, no, no, I'm not mourning the fact that he's unattainable (and is married and has a son). I'm just saying that I've been looking through the movies that he's been in that I could and would like to watch. I realized that he's in Becoming Jane, a movie I've always avoided on principle. I'm not entirely sure what that principle was (possibly defiling Jane Austen? I don't even like Jane Austen!) ... (or maybe just the fact I'm not a big fan of Anne Hathaway... amusing sidenote: I have a thing against her and, yet, she is the actress most people say I look exactly like) ... But whatever that principle was, it was thrown out the door at the promise of James McAvoy.

I hate that movie. Oh, my gosh, it's really good. I don't care about any of the Anne Hathaway parts, but James was amazing (as usual) and I was highly amused to see all the Pride & Prejudice bits of the story (especially after, you know, living and breathing that story for the past month and a half...). But I hated that movie.


Because here I am, sitting on my cousin's bed that I'm using while visiting for Thanksgiving, trying to be silent as I'm crying my eyeballs out because that was an AWFUL ending. I mean, yes, I knew she couldn't get married, because Jane Austen never married, and I would've been extremely angry if they had changed it so she did marry, but that was AWFUL. AWFUL AWFUL AWFUL.

I just don't understand how you can do that. Live with that every day. Your heart broken. For some reason or another, you cannot be with the one you love. Maybe, like Severus, the one you love loves someone else. Maybe, like Jane, the one you love loves you just as much, but circumstances prevent your marriage, no matter how hard you try. I don't understand how you could live like that.

Sure, Severus found teaching. Jane found writing. There are things in life other than love, but isn't love the spice of life? Once you taste it, once you find it and realize that, yes, you are a whole person without him, but with him you can be so much more, how can you ever go back? Unless you no longer see him in that sort of light, if his greatness dims in your eyes, how can you not be in pain every day? If you continue to love him as deeply as ever, how can you not ache every time you see a happy couple? Every time you think of his voice, his face, his touch?


I would like to amend my statement in the first thing I shared. "It’s all romantic and tragic. It’s beautiful and I hate it." It really does make a beautiful story. Severus's story makes me cry every time. But I hate it.

EDIT: Okay, here's another unrequited love story that I just absolutely love/hate. The Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler from "Doctor Who". I mean, yes, Rose gets Doctor 10.2, but we all know it's not the same and just imagine our Doctor's hearts shattering inside his chest when Rose kisses Doctor 10.2. It's that same feeling that we all had when our Doctor said "I don't want to go" but doubled. No wonder the Tenth Doctor got all mopey after that (plus the whole situation with Donna) before regenerating to Eleven. Because he knew Rose was happy with Doctor 10.2 while he's still all alone.

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