After my rant a few days ago about Stephenie Meyer’s misconception of the simple fact of love, I’ve been pondering writing a post on what love is, at least in my eyes– it’s going to turn into a rant however, so I’m easing myself into it piece by piece.
People have this idea that love is something that can be manipulated, that it can be tamed, or reasoned with– but it can’t. Love doesn’t listen to reason, love doesn’t listen to anything but the rush of blood through your body at the mere mention of someone. Yes, it can be confused with lust, but love is something altogether different, it’s consuming in a way that is subtle sometimes, and beating you in the face at others. It has taste, feel, scent… it has everything you’d ever want, and some of the things you wish you didn’t. Love is destructive, and powerful, and should be respected, not handed out like candy on Halloween.
Love isn’t something conditional, it doesn’t come only when someone loves you in return, it burns through you like fire whether they return your affections or not, you are happy for them, you are happy for yourself for not being completely obsessed and thus giving into the false feeling of lust and faux-love, but instead a healthy kind of love– the kind of love where you know that no matter what happens, the love will be there. Even if you hate each other one day, you’ll always love them, want to see them do well in life, want to touch them, be near them, hug them, even if you can’t stand the sight of them. You won’t act on these wants– you won’t even let them be a ruling force in your day to day, instead you will go on, you will live your life knowing that you are blessed that love even touched you, knowing that somehow, you will always be a part of someone, and someone will always be a part of you.
Everyone is entitled to love, no matter what you think, no matter where you’ve come from, you deserve to be loved, and I assure you, you are. Someone loves you, and while it may not be what you want, it may not be who you want, love that feeling, love knowing that someone out there thinks you’re special, because you are– love gives you that, love gives you a feeling of purpose, whether it’s from who you want or not, it’s love… it’s real and it’s love and you should be happy for it.
Love should not technically be an end all for you, but being a romantic isn’t a bad thing– loving love is natural, loving love to the point of foregoing all other emotions is not. While it may seem healthy, it isn’t… somehow people seem to think as long as they’re happy and loving everything is fine, but you’re denying yourself other experiences, and therefore denigrating love’s entire purpose. Love lifts you up, and makes you feel like you’re high as a kite, but it can also send you crashing right back down if you treat it poorly.
I’m ranting, and have been ranting, but I’m honestly not sure how else to define love. It’s raw, passionate emotion that comes out unbidden, and that’s what this post is. Something that I’m just letting myself write, without thought for grammar, or technique, or even how many people will care I’ve written it, but more an expression of adoration for love.
Maybe later I’ll post some of my best love stories, that I’ve personally experienced. How about you guys, any stories you want to share?