Jonesing: When Love Is a Habit

Simone stood in front of her easel, a blank canvas staring back at her as she picked up her brush, hesitating to begin her latest piece. She gazed out the window, her mind drifting to the world outside the confines of her college studio apartment. Her parents, two artists she idolized for their passion and devotion to one another, had announced their separation just a few months prior, leaving her struggling to come to terms with what she had always thought of as perfect love. As a young poet and college senior, Simone had always felt the pressure of living up to her parents' expectations. Her father, a world-renowned author, had written books that seemed to capture the very essence of love and relationships. His words had been a beacon of hope for countless couples and a guiding light for Simone herself as she navigated the complexities of adult relationships. Her mother, a sought-after creative director, had photographed the intimacy of the human experience, often finding beauty in the messy, imperfect moments that made love so raw and real. The public narrative of her parents' relationship had been a beautiful fairy tale - two souls who found each other in the chaos of a busy world, holding fast to their ideals of love, passion, and devotion. However, behind closed doors, the truth was far more complicated. Simone had grown up witnessing the stress and strain of her parents' marriage, the tension simmering just below the surface of their once-harmonious relationship. Now, as she stood at the crossroads of her own life, Simone found herself questioning everything she had ever thought she knew about love. Her parents' divorce had shattered her illusion of what a perfect relationship looked like, leaving her feeling lost and unsure of how to form genuine connections with others. She was starting to think that love was nothing more than a myth, a romantic notion perpetuated by her parents' careers and her own idealistic imagination. Simone's days blended together in a haze of classes, poetry readings, and late-night conversations with her closest friends. They would talk about the latest social justice issues, the music they loved, and their own struggles with relationships, but Simone couldn't shake the feeling that they were all just pretending to be okay. Deep down, she feared that everyone was secretly faking it, using their love to mask the insecurities and fears that threatened to consume them. Just as Simone was about to give up on love altogether, she met Myles. He was a transfer student, an charismatic athlete with a charming smile and an easy, effortless way of being. What caught Simone's attention, though, was the depth she glimpsed in his eyes, a quiet intensity that spoke of a soulful, artistic heart. They met in a college literature class, bonding over their shared love of poetry and music. At first, Simone tried to keep Myles at arm's length, worried that his charming facade hid a deeper emptiness. But as they spent more time together, she began to see a different side of him - a vulnerable, genuine side that made her feel seen and understood. Myles turned out to be more than just a pretty face and a charming smile. He was an artist, a writer who poured his heart and soul into his poetry and fiction. He was also a deep thinker, always probing the world around him, searching for meaning and connection. In his presence, Simone felt like she could finally exhale, like she could be herself, warts and all, without fear of judgment. She began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, love wasn't a myth after all - that maybe it was a real thing, something tangible and beautiful, like the words her father wrote or the photographs her mother took. As the semester wore on, Simone found herself falling for Myles, hard. It was terrifying, like she was falling off a cliff with no net to catch her, but it was also exhilarating. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was living, like she was really feeling something real and honest. And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to understand that love wasn't about perfect words or beautiful photographs - it was about messy, imperfect moments, about the depth and the beauty of the human experience, about connection, intimacy, and the willingness to be vulnerable.