The Picture of Dorian Gray

It's a strange concept for some people, having a favorite person. But we do. There's always one person, or two people, who we love--yes--but we admire even more than we love. There's something about them you want to live up to, that makes you feel more worthy just by being with them. And while you don't want to disappoint them--anything but that--you give them something too. Even if they don't realize it, you give them a part of yourself to carry around. Call it your soul, call it emotional attachment; does it matter? No. It doesn't.

I think when you give someone a piece of you, you don't ever get it back. Maybe it regrows. Maybe it regenerates, and leaves behind a scar. In 50 years you'll still be rubbing that scar and remembering with your lips clenched shut.

Who was it that first commented on the depths to which we fall? Who was it that first handed off a piece of themselves? Who lost the first piece? Who had the first scar?

I've always wondered if we choose who we love. Whether it be conscious or unconscious, our hearts and minds in accordance or just one, in dreams. I used to think we didn't choose who to love, but now I don't think so. Even if logic says it's a bad idea, we choose to keep loving and that's part of why it hurts so much when we can't justify our love anymore. Because we know we choose it, and it hurts to be wrong as much as it hurts to feel shrivel the part that you gave away.

Does that mean love always turns out bad? Of course not. Just...sometimes. And sometimes that's all we need to keep choosing to love, the chance. We're big on chance, even bigger on happy endings. The thing is, one wrong choice and all the others seem sour. No matter that you caught a bad one; they're all bad for a while after that.

Why am I talking about love? Because in order to understand favorite people, you have to understand that you choose love and thus you choose your favorite person. No matter that your favorite person in the world is not necessarily the person you love the most. Just that they're trusted to be everything you want to be. Sometimes dreams die harder than love. Sometimes I guess they're one in the same.

The Picture of Dorian Gray: for Sibyl.