Sunday, May 10, 2009

.L.O.V.E.

Why does night seem so much darker when you're away from the one you love? Why is the wind colder? Why are the hours longer and the days grayer? Every minute feels like an age without him now. And every goodbye feels like the last, ripping out your heart and filling your eyes with tears that burn and sting... Why do stars hide from view without his arms around you? Why does your body ache without his touch?

Love isn't like bleeding or drowning or any of the things I usually write about. And it's not the fairytale some make it out to be. The French and the ancient Celts had it right from the start- love is a torture that is worth every second, a trial that is, in essence, the reason to breathe. It hurts sometimes. It doesn't always work out the way you want. But is there a nobler goal than to love, wholly and completely, without any reservations? Is there a greater cause? Mankind can never fully comprehend the all-consuming, all-enrapturing soul of these words; a woman in love is rarely comprehensible. But most can relate to some degree.

When you see them, your heart skips, your breath catches, and your mind begins to move much quicker than your tongue. When they touch you, a sort of electricity surges through your veins, pulses with your heart, and shimmers in your eyes... These are the basics- Attraction. Chemistry.

But love... To love someone is to know, understand, and accept that person for who and what they are. You must have their best interests at your very core, maing them a vital part of every decision you make. You must want to help them better themselves- support them as they fly, not tether them down. You must be willing to compromise with them, and sometimes make sacrifices for them. Let it never be said that I encourage losing yourself completely for a lover. But truly, if you could take a bullet for them, would you?

Love is not honeymoons and butterflies all the time. Love is making a cup of tea at 3 a.m. when he's sick, and maybe skipping your football game one Sunday to spend the day with her. Love is not forgetting yourself; it's just putting the other first from time to time.

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