Imagine this: a girl and a boy, drunk in young love, walking down dimly lit streets. The girl is trying to balance on the white line in the middle of the road and the boy grabs her from behind, turns her around and kisses her right in the middle of the road.
That was a small moment of love. A few dew drops in an ocean full of memories. Love need not be hard or stressful or painful. In fact, love can be simple and beautiful.
Dating in the 21st century is considered a “hook-up” and relationships are based on the number of likes one receives on a Facebook picture. Modern day conversation has been reduced to slang and love is only expressed in the form of sex. The true meaning of “love” has been lost in the marshes of “sex” and “complications”.
Most of us hardly know what “love” is anymore.
What is this “love”? Someone once told me that love is something that can not truly be explained. It something that varies from person to person, therefore, every person’s description of love will differ based on how they have experienced it.
So I will give you my definition of what love is.
Ever since I was at an age where I can somewhat understand life, I saw love in the harshest of lights. I saw love as a means to heartbreak, and tears and nothing but sorrow. I saw love turn people stupid and needy and I saw love turning the strongest of people into nothing more than mashed potato.
As I grew up, and girls in my age started falling in love, and dating and kissing, I occupied myself with books. Not the school textbooks, mostly novels, and romance fiction. It wasn’t that I hated the idea of “love”. It was more like I hated the fact that real life was never fiction.
When I was 15, my best friend’s brother asked me out and I said okay. We dated for a while, but I didn’t really feel anything for him. He was the first guy I agreed to go out with, having put down many others before him. Later we broke up and it wasn’t heartbreak because I never gave him my heart.
With him followed a long line of “flings”, but my heart was always safe. I was never at the mercy of anyone because I never fell for them. I was an ice queen.
But even ice queens melt on occasion and my turn came when he came along. He was one of those guys who are always silent and brooding. He saw me. He was one of those rare human beings who were able to delve to the core of who I am in order to understand me. But he had a girlfriend and so I stayed away.
We were however really good friends and with each passing day, I was more myself with him than with anyone else. It was a brutal feeling when I realized that I was slowly falling for him. I gave him my heart the day he kissed me and I completely fell for him as the days passed.
The day he told me he loved me I realized, yes. Love can lead to heartbreak and tears and sorrow. The heart is a fragile thing and a small crack can be enough to shatter it whole. But when I look into his eyes, and he smiles back at me, I know. Love is giving your heart to someone with the possibility of it breaking, but, it trusts them to keep it safe.
And for me, love is not a mere word used for sex. Love is him. Love is us. Love is possible heartbreak but even if it leads to that, love for me is no regrets.