So let me dedicate this post to Eileen--hope you don't be taken in by this chunk of bullshit :D
And so the magic question pops out, why then, do you love her? But you cannot explain--because you once proclaimed that you don't define love but love defines you. And so you surrender to its profoundity, its awe-inspiring self that no one has ever encountered, a thought-provoking definition that encompassed the world because someone once said love can never be explained. You flip back to your clichéd phrases. Your childhood fairytale told you that she fell in love with him because of love at first sight. The drama serials depicted that image with lightning bolts that stole your comprehension of love. From that moment onwards, love wasn't anything you could describe, it just is, because they said so and you believed...
Love makes the world go round. Another confrontation with this powerful emotion, one that you finally experience for real, or so you think. You meet this wonderful lady, glistening eyes, round cheeks, a smile that you would die for. The face of wonder, the image of your soulmate flashes before you in school, at home, as you venture into the dream world. Your heartbeat warns you but your nerve impulses generated from that idiotic brain provokes you--love is happening. You don't stop fantasizing, because everyone talks about love and only you don't. You want the feeling, the glory when someone mocks you and even though you delude everyone by playing a facade, pretending that you are shy but inside, you are becking for more, so that this attention can transcend into the power of love...
Love is blind, or so they told us. But you think you know love more than anyone else does. Can we really draw the thin line between lust and love? You crave for that popular babe, an object too prized and distant for your reach but you keep trying. You tell people that when it comes to love, you would stop at anything for your loved one. But really, is it so or is it another foolish thought to explain your imbecility and impulsiveness when entrapped with lust. You defend yourself, frantically saying that love just happens and you cannot stop it. You say that so that you are comforted, so that you know what you are doing is acceptable and is part and parcel of a greater love-but truly, there is nothing worst off then you are.
Love, the only game that two can play and both can win. And yet love, is the exact same game when more than one parties can be involved and eventually, everyone loses. In every game, there is a moment of peak for some or all. That is when your self-delusional love occurs. At the end, there is bound to be a loser but because love tells you that you must sacrifice all for your partner, to stick through thick and thin, it ends up in a suicidal lost with everyone losing the game.
I am just another human, just another person who longs for love. But today I question myself again--really, what is love? Is it another statement of enlightenment, a sagacious saying that emanates a feeling of esoterica or really, a subtle warning that came from many erudite scholars.
When I place these clichéd sayings of love together, I can only sense a foreboding threat-that we are just toying around with our emotions. But if that's the case, then the quotes are a by-product of this misfortune and they cannot speak for themselves. What then can I say?
Love is a paradox? Well, that doesn't answer anything. Precisely..
Because Love just is...