I lie in bed at home, trying to put feelings into words. On the one hand – and this is the part to do with the past – love feels like the vast and sudden easing of a lifelong frown. But simultaneously – this is the part to do with the present and the future – it feels as if the lungs of my soul have been inflated with pure oxygen. I only think like this when alone, of course. When I am with Susan, I’m not thinking what it’s like to love her; I’m just being with her. And maybe that ‘being with her’ is impossible to put into any other words.
— The Only Story (Julian Barnes), Loc. 1184–8
Oct 19, 2026 comment:
I wanted to be with that one girl, and she did not want to be with me, on the long-run. Having sex and temporary relationships was OK for her.
For years, I’ve been trying to rationalise why would I want to be with her, like collect a number of reasons. It’s empowering to realise that you don’t actually have to collect that number of reasons for that. It’s totally normal to want being with someone, and not putting it into words.
I wonder, what if I’d just say her that I’d wanted to be with her, like till the rest of our lives, and all that, what would her reaction be? Anyway, we’d never know now. Now I have another girl, my wife, whom I thought of spending the rest of my life with, and it felt like a good idea. I’m not so sure now, but this doubt is actually a very positive thing. It could be ‘hell no!’ but it isn’t. I’m just not so sure, but if this confidence would disappear at this rate, we’re having many years to go.