...of Love

Why do we love? Do we love that we may live, or we live that we may love? Why is it that more often than not, the outcome of love is falling out of it or being hurt by it? For centuries, man has written, sculpted, painted, sang, danced, or acted all aspects concerning love, but in this long long long long course of time, has man really understood what love truly means? Or are we just following what the commercialized scenarios set by television and film are feeding our brains? If you ask me, love doesn't have to be as epic as Titanic, love is still love even in it's simplicity.

(By the way, I'm only writing this because it's almost Valentines, and as always it appears as if I'm going to spend it all alone... *iyak* Hehehe)

I hate public display of affection, honestly. I mean, holding hands is okay but over and beyond that just makes my blood boil. If you should know, yes, I am a tad jealous. I mean, so you're in love, you don't have to rub it in everybody else's face right? It may sound like sour graping but it's not, I have a healthy respect for star-crossed lovers, as long as they don't try to smother each other in front of me.

What other pain can there be, not that inflicted by a dagger to the heart, but of a love that went unanswered... unnoticed... unknown. A nameless love, a love spent hiding in the fringes of shadow and anonymity. A love that you alone feel. Is there anything more tragic than that? What other form of pain can surpass an unrequited love?

If there were a medicine to cure love, I would gladly walk a thousand miles just to get it. To rid my body of this canker that lingers in the cavities of my heart, that keeps me up at night starring into emptiness. I would give everything I have just to be free of this disease that causes me tremendous pain... that throbs especially in my solitude.

I'm tired... I'm not sick anymore, before I was sick and tired of waiting for love to give my life a new meaning, to shed a different light into my otherwise grey world, but now, I'm just tired. I'm like a zombie who walk the streets (however, I don't try to eat the passers by) with a blank expression on my face.

Have you noticed people inside public vehicles? Some people don't look out the window, while others ogle at people on the sidewalk. I've formed a theory that those that look outside are the people who are still hoping that one day they'll find love or love will find them, whichever comes first, while the ones who don't they're the people who are either already in a relationship or have already resigned themselves to the fact that they're going to grow old, wither, then finally die alone... I categorize myself under the first.