Hopelessly romantic

Somehow when the blanket of darkness falls, it soothes your wild thoughts and calms that burdening throbbing. There's this magic in the night, the mystery, the comfort the day can never give.

Watching Gray's made me aware of things I've been thinking so much about lately. In times of overwhelming helplessness, all we crave is Touch and the Love it brings along with it. Have Love been complicated by its many definitions, its many expectations and its many social obligations that the very word of Love has been warped and conjured into something more than just an emotion. Perhaps Marriages no longer consist of the soul of Love but forced upon by its practicality.

Love love love. If I die tomorrow, would I have felt like I've experienced the greatest romantic kind of Love I can ever materialised in my short life? I know God loves me, I know my parents deeply share the same sentiments. But what about the boys whom I have exchanged a period of my life with, have I truly knew Love?

A familiar whiff today reminded me of a flame of the past, and flooding memories came swimming by. For then I wasn't loving, I was trusting and naive. Then, my first, I had thought I knew Love so much, being trusting and being always there. I thought I loved and was loved, of course than I never knew Love could have been so much more complicated than I thought it was. I thought I thought so many other things.

The Me in me today have just gotten more confused. Because I can never get rid of the notion that Love excites, that Love romanticised, that Love is constantly inconsistant. That Love is supposed to be enriching, is supposed to be constantly on your mind, is supposed to be impractical, is supposed to be colourful, is supposed to be wild, is supposed to be bombarding, is supposed to summon the impression of your love so vividly in your mind should you die tomorrow. How than if my Love does not falls in my notion of Love?

Impractically inconsistant. I guess that's the keyword I love to stress right here. Being emotional, being romantic, being bombastically overwhelminging gushing with feelings. Isn't that how romantic Love should be? I really wish to say that I know, by now, the greatest Love I ever can encounter in my life, but somehow I am hesistant.

I am young and I am free. I am living my last year of teenage life. But yet I never felt like I was ever young nor was I ever free. I wish for a thousand things to materialise, for the other gazillion emotions and excitments Life has yet to bestow to me. Somehow I still wish Prince Charming still exist, and would someday sweep past me and wipe me off my feet and onto his galloping horse, riding into the sunset. Why don't these things ever happen, perhaps with a little modernity injected to it? I crave so much more than just mundane dating, so much more than this formality. What is Love, and why do I crave so much to experience the excitment? Or am I holding it in my hands right now, not realising behind every galloping horse riding into the sunset, lies a story of routine and household chores that follows?

If everyone changes from time to time, and at every period of your life you meet someone suitable for you at that point of time, but you changed. How than do marriages maintain? Or how relationship strives in mounting difficulty in expectations and communications? Why can't Love just be simple emotion, why do so many thoughts be needed in it?

Love love love.
Shouldn't the judgement of this feeling be based on emotions and emotions alone?