Jan 2014
Love. Love isn't a rose, or a poem, or a romance novel. Love is not a kiss or a hug, or chocolate. Love is infinite, adorable, unquenchable, crazy, catastrophic, undeniably reckless.
And yet humans like to name it and control it, they try to hide it, and defend it. Love is beyond a human's understanding, love is a force and we are the bay, being kicked by it over and over again. Being washed again and again by it's beauty. But sometimes love and often love doesn't go our way. We get knocked down by love and crushed by love, and sometimes we find ourselves in love in the wrong situations. Sometimes we take advantage of love and sometimes it takes advantage of us. It's not cute and especially not at all easy, ever.
Love is a struggle, it's a mountain we climb. It's not a magic potion to solve our problems, it most of the times cause our biggest problems. Love is hard and strange. It isn't easy to handle or fun to tame. It's a puzzle, it's a novel, not a picture pic, and it's not candy, it's not flowers or cake. Every one thinks love is a disney movie, and though their classic pieces of artwork and storytelling, barely does it show real love. Love really comes after the happily ever after, when the happiness fades away people stay because of the love. We love, and love and get cracked. And we fall in love some more, because from the very first moment of our existence, we love our mothers, or whoever the hell is there to greet us as we exit our dark palace called the womb.
Love is hard to understand. Love is old, not lovely. It's bad. And painful. But the being loved and being shown love and loving another human being, despite the raw and hard days of being in loved, or not being loved. Something unexplainable happens that is sort of like a self fulfillment. The holes in our soft hearts are filled. A sort of understanding of ourselves that maybe we aren't such weird and horrible people if someone else could fancy us.
So despite the faults of love and people's poor understanding of love, it is still a emotion we cannot control, we cannot withhold our heart from. It's a wide field of dreams, a host of wonders, a deep vacancies of despair. Love is composed of hurt, mixed with a dash of adventure of being another's.
And I'm saying with love you could be a 103 and still not understand the entire entity of love. It cannot always make sense, and it will not always make sense.
So being in love is not a fairy tale, but the majority of the time a graphic novel. Love is lost kisses, lost time, broken hearts, misunderstanding, and pieces of our lives strewn together making up ourselves, pasted together by the people who we love and who love us.
And yet humans like to name it and control it, they try to hide it, and defend it. Love is beyond a human's understanding, love is a force and we are the bay, being kicked by it over and over again. Being washed again and again by it's beauty. But sometimes love and often love doesn't go our way. We get knocked down by love and crushed by love, and sometimes we find ourselves in love in the wrong situations. Sometimes we take advantage of love and sometimes it takes advantage of us. It's not cute and especially not at all easy, ever.
Love is a struggle, it's a mountain we climb. It's not a magic potion to solve our problems, it most of the times cause our biggest problems. Love is hard and strange. It isn't easy to handle or fun to tame. It's a puzzle, it's a novel, not a picture pic, and it's not candy, it's not flowers or cake. Every one thinks love is a disney movie, and though their classic pieces of artwork and storytelling, barely does it show real love. Love really comes after the happily ever after, when the happiness fades away people stay because of the love. We love, and love and get cracked. And we fall in love some more, because from the very first moment of our existence, we love our mothers, or whoever the hell is there to greet us as we exit our dark palace called the womb.
Love is hard to understand. Love is old, not lovely. It's bad. And painful. But the being loved and being shown love and loving another human being, despite the raw and hard days of being in loved, or not being loved. Something unexplainable happens that is sort of like a self fulfillment. The holes in our soft hearts are filled. A sort of understanding of ourselves that maybe we aren't such weird and horrible people if someone else could fancy us.
So despite the faults of love and people's poor understanding of love, it is still a emotion we cannot control, we cannot withhold our heart from. It's a wide field of dreams, a host of wonders, a deep vacancies of despair. Love is composed of hurt, mixed with a dash of adventure of being another's.
And I'm saying with love you could be a 103 and still not understand the entire entity of love. It cannot always make sense, and it will not always make sense.
So being in love is not a fairy tale, but the majority of the time a graphic novel. Love is lost kisses, lost time, broken hearts, misunderstanding, and pieces of our lives strewn together making up ourselves, pasted together by the people who we love and who love us.
