I just thought.. "whats so great about love that I'm so obssessed with it?"
For some reasons I don't even know what it is. I haven't felt it. Thats probably why I wanted it so badly. I am inlove of the thought of being inlove. Sometimes I question myself, Do I really have to experience it in order for me to stop wanting it? What is so good about it? It can just lead to heartache. They say Love isn't love if you don't experience its pains. But why is that all that I feel is heartache? I've heard somewhere that unrequitted love isn't considered love at all since it is not being recieved by the other person and isn't given back to you. For love to become love it has to be give and take. Then I realized, thats the only love that i know, and sadly it isn't considered love at all. That is why I just wasted half of my life on nothing. So I guess that what it is... Love is an illusion that man created to satisfy the need for someone else. Its a misconception of what it means the most. Love isn't for everyone. Love itself isn't perfect. It is just a selfish way of creating the reasons to boast to everyone else that the feelings of love can make you happy. That its the only reason for me to continue living. But love itself is so difficult to find. If man and woman is born to love and spends his and her entire lifetime searching for it, it would be such a waste to die without finding it. Even if they decided not to look for it, Its longing to feel that kind of emotion is far to great to ignore and would be left hurting. So I guess love is also a curse. If you find it you get hurt and if you don't you'll get hurt still. so if you'll look at it closely, love isn't so great after all. But the again, I just want to fall inlove. Whether I get hurt in the end, atleast i could say my life isn't such a waste.
I wish for love! So, I end it with this....
"I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes -- and the stars through his soul. "
~Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French poet, dramatist and novelist.
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