The universe is made of unrequited love

Because I like to make sweeping statements like that. Especially those that involve the use of the word “universe”. Nothing tops the universe on the drama scale. Ok, maybe Jersey Shore. Drunk guidos are more dramatic than the universe. Word. 

“He is thinking about asymmetry. This is a world, he is thinking, where you can lie in bed, listening to a song as you dream about someone you love, and your feelings and the music will resonate so powerfully and completely that it seems impossible that the beloved, whoever and wherever he or she might be, should not know, should not pick up this signal as it pulsates from your heart, as if you and the music and the love and the whole universe have merged into one force that can be channelled out into the darkness to bring them this message. But in actuality, not only will he or she not know, there is nothing to stop that other person from lying on his or her bed at the same exact moment listening to the same exact song and thinking about someone else entirely – from aiming those identical feelings in some completely opposite direction, at some totally other person, who may in turn be lying in the dark thinking of another person still, a fourth, who is thinking of a fifth, and so on; so that rather than a universe of neatly reciprocating pairs, love and love-returned fluttering through space nicely and symmetrically like so many pairs of butterfly wings, instead we get chains of yearning, which sprawl and meander and culminate into an infinite number of dead ends. 

Just as the shape of natural objects like rainbows, snowflakes, crystals and blossoming flowers derives from the asymmetrical way that quarks arrange themselves in the atom – a remnant of the universe’s lost state of perfect symmetry – so Ruprecht is convinced that the unhappy state of affairs regarding love can be traced right back to the subatomic. If you read up on strings, you will learn that there are two different types, closed and open-ended. The closed strings are  O shaped loops that float around like angels, insouciant of spacetime’s demands and playing no part in our reality. It is the open ended strings, the forlorn, incomplete U shaped strings, whose desperate ends cling to the sticky stuff of the universe; it is they that become reality’s building blocks, its particles, its exchangers of energy, the teeming producers of all that complication. Our universe, one could almost say, is actually built out of loneliness; and that foundational loneliness persists upwards to haunt every one of its residents. “

Skippy Dies, by Paul Murray 

I just sorta realized how much we are all motivated and driven by loneliness (or the fear of it). It is the one bright spark of truth, the fundamental building blocks for the reality we live in; from the burning torch that brings forth a new beginning, to the white light at the end of the tunnel. It is a strangely powerful science and delicate romance all at the same time and the one true companion that’ll stick it out together with you no matter what, the perfect soulmate so to say…..

I just want to say that, even though it may sound so, this is not me being a stalker. This is just me being fascinated.

To Charlie, and the day when he finally receives his valentine.


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