I guess no one really knows what love is.
For some people it’s this drug that you become addicted to searching for, people put themselves through hell for what they think is love. They drain every last ounce of their soul into the bottomless pit of anguish and turmoil only to find that they’ve been trumped by their addiction. For other people it’s this fantasy they choose to believe in but not act upon. So, for this scenario I like to think of it sort of like little girls who know cinderella isn’t real but it’s nice to think about being her and finding prince charming but in reality you’re 22 and have yet to meet a guy who’s impressed you so you know that shit ain’t real. Kind of like the idea of santa and christmas but you just put on the show? Ya ya this makes sense to me. Then there’s hopefuls who have kind of tasted love but were too scared to hold on cause they didn’t wanna be like the love druggies and get hooked so they let go. They spend forever never being truly happy, usually end up getting married to “safe-bet” kinda people. They love them but never fell in love with them. Those are the ones who truly worry me the most. Having someone around but that void of empty is like a gash that withstands the mightiest stitches of time! Then I think there’s those who never give up. They don’t let the idea of love consume them but that doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten it either. It’s like a secret journey. Everywhere they go they find little hints and clues of what they do and don’t want. They tend to be the ones who learn about themselves as they grow up and slowly but surely pick apart the things they’re only certain of. I don’t know if I could ever be certain of anything really. I am usually only certain of what I don’t want. Strange ya? I know immediately when something just needs to get the fuck outta my face ASAP, and as far as things i’d like to keep around I sort of teeter totter. I want love but wtf is love? Well to me love is when the person you love reminds you of being 5 and getting two toys in a happy meal. It’s when the only way you can tell them how you feel is by describing pictures and colors to them. It’s when I tell him I feel like there’s a purple cloud in my stomach covered in glitter that’s there and ever so pleasant because of him. It’s when the only thing I want to do is hug him in the morning so he won’t go to Kailua and leave me even though I know it’s his job. It’s when the words haven’t even been invented yet to described the sensory reactions taking place inside my body when I’m with him. I think maybe, that’s love.
