I remember exactly what I was doing 2 years ago today. I was getting myself mentally prepared for love, the idea of marriage and forever. Of course what I didn't prepare for was the heartache that came with it, and the crushing blow my parents would deal me a year later. It's funny thinking back that I probably was more ready for settling down then, than I am now. Scary fact hehe... I hope you guys enjoy this, cause I was vulnerable and poetic then. I'm less poetic these days...
Getting sick of thinking about love 28-06-06
6th post on love in 3 weeks, that’s gotta be some kinda record.
Let me post a little bit of back ground to this one first. Girl loves boy, girl dates boy, girl breaks up with boy. A while later, girl wants boy back, but boy said no, so the girl decides to extort and write warning notes to all his friends. Boy gets mad, gives her a grand and never sees girl again.
I guess I’m an outsider in this, watching in through tainted glass at the happenings of this interesting fiasco. And I find myself wondering, what would I do if I was her? What would I do if I was the friend? What would I do if I was him…
When does the line between love and hate blur, and how much pressure to completely shatter it? When it disappears, am I strong enough to keep the two apart, like keeping apart 2 sumo wrestlers bent on the other’s destruction. Would my logic and compassion over rule my thirst for vengeance? Or would I too succumb to the bitter sweet taste of revenge?
To quote the greatest love stories of all time, “my only love, borne from my only hate”. What if it’s the other way around? My only hate, borne from my only love, is it too a great theatrical story waiting to happen? When you pierce that dagger through his heart, does one also pierce through yours? Would you rather die in the arms of the one you love/hate, knowing that he will again belong to another, or would you happily watch from the side lines, as he marry, grow old, and have kids, all the while knowing that your sacrifice have made his life better?
Love the great chameleon, who wonders our world alone, touching those unfortunate enough to wonder close. Yet each touch is different, unique, and at the same time offering the same exquisite feelings previously unknown to mankind. Its as if when he touches a new person, he gives them part of his gift, a gift that could never be replicated, nor reproduced, and hence each touch is forever changing, forever unique.
