I don't understand it. Love, that is. When I breath in the cool, crisp air as I walk through this picturesque city, I feel a sort of romance. When I drink in the final pages of a good Victorian novel, I begin to comprehend a little of devotion between the hero and heroine. When I see a couple laughing and holding hands, I glimpse - just glimpse - this thing they call "love"..but I don't understand it. And I don't think I ever will.
Why is love as essential to people as water? Some acknowledge this need with an annoying desparation, while others fall into its rhythm naturally. And then others of us (as you can see, I speak for myself here) shrug off expectations and proceed to feel comfortable living independently. The prying of relatives and the felling of friends by Cupid's arrow only serves to strengthen our resolve to move through life...not without love - that is not the point - but without fear. What a silly thing to waste time upon! All of the time that people spend looking frantically for this elusive "love", it seems to me, could be much better spent on productivity. No, I am not hardened to any romantic longings...who is that resolved? But, life does not revolve around love. Or does it? Why is that, so often, a relationship seems to be for people the light at the end of the tunnel? Isn't the tunnel much longer than that? I certainly hope so!
My thoughts are so jumbled and inconclusive and really not worthy to put down, but it's been on my mind. Forgive me, starry-eyed lovers...I don't want to seems callous.
Maybe this is the danger in turning 21 without knowing what love feels like.
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