Sunday, June 5, 2016

dissertation on love.

Everything I understood love to be; transformed and questioned.
Love is more than an emotion - it is a concept that no amount of words can begin to describe. It is the warm hug after a long day, the unwavering support, the cheesiness that makes you grin - it is everything and anything you want it to be.
But in this day and age I’m beginning to question everything I once understood it to be.


Don’t promise me the world when you don’t plan to stay in mine.


For me, love was once the vulnerable long talks about your past, present and future, your dreams and your fears. It was the ache in your cheeks paired with the belly full of laughter. They were the late nights by each other's side, in sickness and in health, limbs intertwined. It was the determination to conquer anything that life had planned, together. It was a number of many things but above all it was the comfort in another’s soul who's heart you called home. 
But now, if love was to sit me down, bare all in front of me, look me in the eye - I wouldn’t recognise it. 


Don’t share a part of your soul with me that you intend to share with everyone else. 


We use to go on dates and decide in a timely manner whether a person was right for you or not. But now we “hang out” indefinitely until one buckles and queries the future or one disappears completely without a trace. We now live in a world where common courtesy no longer exists and the slightest sign of kindest is misconstrued. We now fear wearing our hearts on our sleeves so instead we put on a calculated cold front to avoid the burn that would surely ensue. We pity those stupid enough to believe that love and fairytales still exist so instead we date unemotionally and without depth. We date to pass time and to never look into the future because we truly do not know what it holds. Love is now a game, each move carefully calculated, both players guarded - one wrong move and the game is over.
But despite all this I refuse to resign to the reality that is presented before me.


Don’t tell me to fall freely for you when you don’t intend to catch me.


Farewell, my almost lover.

- margaret
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mags