Posted in day-to-day, love, northfarthing, personal

Love is a Verb

Or, an Elegy for a Sunken Island

It was the place I called home for over a year. It was a responsibility I took, with all my heart, for no reason other than love alone. But it was never mine. One could call that symbolic, perhaps, or a parallel. Call it what you will; I loved that fucking sim. Through drama, through loss, through tournaments and festivals and quiet times and embarrassing moments and goofy grief-fights, there was no single place on the entire grid I wanted to be more.

I get a sinking feeling every every time I see “Message from Second Life” as a subject in my inbox, because it inevitably means that more pieces of me have been sent back, and that a little bit more of the product of my love is gone.

When the day came that I broke the news that I was leaving, I was told that I was the one holding it together all along. But that’s part of the reason that I had to leave: it was never mine to hold together. Whether intentionally or not, so much of the me that went into that sim was taken for granted. I don’t mean by the populace at large. I mean by the person whose sim it is to hold together. It was a burden I could bear no longer. Some might say I was a quitter to turn my back on it. Others, that I was a fool for putting so much into it for so little in return.

But you see, I’m of the belief that love is a verb. When you love someone, or something, or someplace, you actively invest in it. You support with your whole being, expecting nothing in return except maybe a little love in return someday. You say, “I am on your side,” partly in the hope that one day it will be on your side. You make foolish decisions. You rise and fall and rise again. You bleed and you heal.

When you love someplace, you don’t just ignore it and expect it to take care of itself. You don’t sit silently and hope that someone else will come along and bring the “good old days” back again. Just like you don’t sit silently and hope that someone dear to you already knows how you feel, day after day after long day. Blame whatever you wish for the decline of the town; the true reason is that you who have it stopped actively loving it a long, long time ago. Somewhere along the line it changed from your home to that place down underneath your new home, and it was obvious to every resident or merchant that came and didn’t stay. Maybe you do still love it, in some way. But nobody would know that, to set foot on its grounds. No one. Just like I never knew you cared until the day I said I was leaving.

Love is a verb. Love the sim, actively, love the people who come to it, love the scenery and the buildings and whatever little else remains, and maybe it can be said that there is a future for it.

But deep down I think those days are gone.




6 thoughts on “Love is a Verb

  1. You have made your choices and there is no reason to second guess those, but there is not a rule limiting anyone to any one grid. I do agree you seem to have shouldered more than you should have, but people are always willing to hand you more when you look like you are okay (no matter the reality).

    I have more a few grids I hang out in and as a matter of fact I like to perform on this one grid all the time;

    Oh, and you are missed. I’ve heard it more than once. We all know you do not miss someone until they are gone. It’s human nature.

  2. “goofy grief-fights”

    Good times. šŸ™‚

    “Some might say I was a quitter to turn my back on it. Others, that I was a fool for putting so much into it for so little in return.”

    And anyone who said either, is full of bullshit. You gave that sim everything you had. And giving that sim and it’s people so much, asking for so little in return, and maybe receiving even less is not what defines wisdom. You, loving that sim, was enough. It may not have been yours in name, or deeds. But it was to a great extent your ward. You were it’s keeper. Does it matter if a baby is adopted? It’s still yours in your heart… and when you care for something you give to it selflessly. You give it yourself. Even when it gives you little in return (like children often do.)

    And I think, from my own experiences, giving without receiving anything…. even something as simple as polite consideration, just goes with the territory. We must just be people who invest and give because it makes us feel good, which is another reason why it feels so terrible, when it doesn’t work out.

    For the record, the reason I left had nothing to do with lack of love for the place, but more like damage control of a situation I was kind of in an awkward place. I think I can speak for the Centaur when I say that too His was conflict, mine was peace keeping. I still hold a special place for North-farthing in my heart, because I met some of my best friends in SL there. When you were there, I still went there to use the Xstreet terminal and to shop from you. I use another Xstreet terminal now, because you are not there… I wanted my measly contribution to traffic to be for *you* I know that’s like Canadian pennies in America… but, ya know.

    1. Speaking of the conflict and peace-keeping, I think that was another example (yes I’m going to make this all about me, since it is my blog heh) of The Boss taking me for granted. He pretty much had come to expect me to take care of all the particulars of events (even things that I had no control over–such as the audio stream or the events calendar–and even when I was away on vacation). To use your adopted child analogy, I was expected to have adopted Northfarthing even when no formal arrangements had been made. It was neglecting the child on the assumption that Aunt Mistletoe will take care of it.

  3. Final decision
    catchs up with reality
    the wooden log’s surface seems abrasive
    probably too much to sit on it

    But probably comfortable enough
    that it’s hard
    to get back up again
    once you sit down

    And we can’t fall behind
    World keeps spinning
    and would push us harsh
    if we stand still

    Many roads to take
    just no way back

    Memories remain
    while we have to move on

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