I was asked once who was my favorite author. I said Edgar Allen Poe was one of them. Why? They asked. Uh, well. Because he wrote stuff that made sense to me. In that moment though, I honestly didn’t know what else to say. There were many thoughts swirling in my head. The most prominent one was love. What I wanted to say was, “Because of love”. No, it still wouldn’t make any sense. I would have to say so many more words. Poe is known as the epitome of dark and morbid. Why would love to bring anyone to him? Or why would his work inspire love?
Here is the real rub; Poe’s work and life shows he had more love to give than he knew what to do with. I learned to love through his poetry and short stories. I learned that not everyone who deserves to be loved gets it.
I learned that not every good person gets good in return for being good. I learned that terrible things happen indiscriminately. I learned that you could love, and care and your heart can be full of gratitude and goodness no matter how horrible life has been to you.
Edgar was a scum of a human being. He couldn’t hold a relationship. He drank and did drugs, No one knows what became of him or how he even died. He wanted to love. He wanted to live a happy life. He didn’t know how to because no one showed him how. No one loved him enough, no one cared enough. His parents died when he was 3 years old. He was never loved, hence never knew what love looked like.
He kept trying to Grapple with his tragic realities. A person with nothing, imagining he deserves nothing. He died believing that he was nothing, in depression with other mental illnesses on his back. Such is the human condition.
#Poe #forlove #humancondition #lovesurives #edgarallenpoe #thekover #towhomitmayconcern #professionalscribbler
To Whom It May Concern 