Chapter 110
Chapter One Hundred Ten
Private Message | EchoZone Internal Chat
To: DeadStrings
Subject: Re: Can people fall in love again?
That’s a hard question.
Not because I don’t have an answer, but because I have too many. They all live on different timelines and under different emotional climates.
I used to think the answer was no.
Once you’ve seen someone at their worst—and they’ve seen you at yours—how do you go back to believing in magic?
You don’t.
But maybe you don’t have to.
Maybe falling in love again means falling into something different—deeper. Something less pristine but more solid. It’s not butterflies and guessing games. It’s quiet recognition. A mutual choosing—despite the bruises.
Still, it scares me.
Because forgiving isn’t forgetting. And loving again means risking again.
What if the person hasn’t changed enough?
Worse—what if you have?
I want to believe people can grow. That apologies mean something. That time does its job and softens the jagged places. But I’ve also seen people wear their remorse like a costume—just enough to get let back in. And then nothing changes.
So maybe the better question isn’t whether people can fall in love again, but whether they should.
And that depends on the people.
On what was broken.
On what remains.
But I won’t lie.
I want to believe in second chances.
Not just for love—but for myself.
You asked the question late at night. I’m answering it with the sun coming in through my kitchen window, and a cat wrapped around my feet like she owns me. Maybe she does.
Here’s my version of a Sunday morning mixtape—songs to fall in love again. Some are old flames. Some are quiet hopes. All of them make me feel like maybe . . . just perhaps. . . it’s possible.
Songs to Fall in Love Again:
“This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)” —Talking Heads
“Into the Mystic” —Van Morrison
“Your Song” —Elton John
“Something” —The Beatles
“Let’s Stay Together” —Al Green
“Everywhere” —Fleetwood Mac
“I’ll Stand by You” —The Pretenders
“Crazy Love” —Poco
“I Can’t Make You Love Me” —Bonnie Raitt (for the times it doesn’t work out, but the love was real anyway)
Play them when you’re ready. Or when you can’t sleep.
Or when you start wondering if maybe . . . falling again doesn’t mean falling back.
It means falling forward. Falling with the new version of the person you used to love. I think that’s possible, which complicates my current state, but I’m hopeful.