Love; it's that word again! I've heard it being used impertinently. I've seen it undermined, exaggerated, underestimated, and taken for granted. It's as if this world has become numb to such an enticing abstract. Maybe we need to give it a new name to truly comprehend what has become nebulous.
The, nowadays, neglected emotion comes in various shapes and forms. Subtly, you could find it within you. However, during certain intervals of time, it promptly makes itself profound. It doesn't matter what manner it shows up in, but that it's there is what truly matters.
An old Disney song taught me: " love isn't love till you give it away!" But, is that really the case? Let's take, for instance, the one-sided love that doesn't get its entitled liberty of being reciprocated.
Sometimes we love inanimate objects such as food, books, and electrical devices. We're aware of their inabilities of loving us back, but we still love them nonetheless. Each and one of us has their favorite spot, place, city, and country. We talk about the love we have reserved in our hearts for them and cherish them as if , they too are mesmerized by our beauty.
This type of love: only felt by one beating party is the succinct definition of unconditional love. We love the inanimate as if it's utterly animate. Yet, we're unequivocally satisfied that those things will never become animate and loving towards us!
Furthermore, uni-love is expressed towards humans who might be oblivious to its existence as well. For example, we've all had our favorite author or TV talk-show host! We've all had an unconditional love for a teacher who might've forgotten that we ever sat in their classroom ever so intrigued. We don't necessarily mind that they don't have the same amount of love for us that we bear for them. It's a unique, ubiquitous form of love, and it's beautiful just the way it is.
Though, usually, this facet of an infinity of emotions is looked down upon. It's the kind that could kill. Sometimes, the fact that he/she doesn't know of your existence and/or the existence of the endless love you have for them gets you agitated. Frustrated. Unassured. Lost in a perpetual stream of thoughts and turbulently tumbling emotions! Instead of a provision of strength and courage predicted to result from love, it leaves you with a desperate self-pity. So, why bother, right? I mean, why would you continue something that you know has a dead end?
Yes, it's true that this depressing form of love contradicts its meaning and all its previously mentioned forms, but it is still love. It is beautiful. Enchanting. Exciting. Wondrous!
It's beautiful because that loved human doesn't know how you talk about him/her even if you've never talked to him/her. It's amazing how they could take up a whole chunk of your heart and another chunk of your mind, while you simply know that, even your mere presence isn't marveled upon by him/her. It's exciting because every little thing they do or say could be a potential for the beginning of a love story you already built up from your wild imagination. It's wondrous because of the many what-if's your mind surges to calm your palpitating heart.
"I was a flight risk with a fear of falling!
Wondering why we bother with love if it never lasts?" Is one of my favorite Taylor lyrics. These lines ask the inevitable question, which I've been answering to myself in the form of questions due to its unanswerable condescendence!
Why do we fear falling? Aren't falling and getting back up again the ultimate metaphor for life, anyway? If love doesn't last, does that mean that its departure deprives it of what it once was? Does love ever truly last? Why do we want it to last? Does an ending love only translate to a dooming love? Can love be dooming? .........
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