The naughty girl called Love

Love, I believe, was once a sweet child. She rested in the hearts of people and gave them solace. Who knows when she got naughty and since has started doing all the mischief!

Of late whoever I have been talking to is suffering from the same disease: love. Someone is in a relationship and does not know if s/he is actually in love. Someone was in a relationship, then broke up, and yet is extremely close to the person he loved and has no clue what is going on between them. Someone is hopelessly searching for an answer as to why his true love was not returned.  Was it even something you could even remotely call love? Or was it a mere game of two hearts, just there and then it vanished? Everyone went their separate ways and everything was forgotten. Except when you suddenly remember those brief moments of togetherness. You want to believe maybe they were true, but you have made a choice and have to live by it.

I understand man is what his decisions are. Every situation brings with a gamut of possibilities. It poses to you a few alternatives. You choose one, based on your circumstances. Sometimes you are confident and sure of your choice and sometimes you are not. Nonetheless you make a decision. You make a choice. Then you live by it. Sometimes while you are doing that you feel your choice was wrong. You might want to go back and make it right. But that path is closed. Hence comes pain and remorse. Sometimes you just accept that no matter you are hurting, you got to live by the choice you made. So, you make compromises with your own heart, make it go the way you want it to and live a content life. Content, but only in the outward appearance.

Underneath a thin mask of happiness you are broken, you are as fragile as a piece of glass. You have a smile painted on your face, you talk to people and make them happy. Underneath you are burning. In most cases, you will realize it. In certain cases, if you are lucky enough, you will not even know that you are not happy. You will forever remain in the illusion of a happiness that you decided for yourself, and never actually got.

Nevertheless, life goes on, seasons change and rivers drag their dirt to the oceans. Hence we shall live, on and on, whether or not we find the true meaning of Love. Until then, let Love be the naughty girl that she is and help it create heaps of pages and web-pages of pathetic love-stories, or maybe one or two hopeless blog entries as these.