Julia: I ask THE question.

There’s this word that we often toss around: love. She loves him; he loves her. I love you; you love me. I hear it all of the time...

But, when speaking in terms of romanticism, does this ambiguous and nearly indefinable word have one tangible meaning that can be manifested in a people? I’m sure it does. However, the even more perplexing riddle is: what is that meaning? Is it only present when fireworks go off at a kiss? When your stomach does a flip-flop at the sight of your object of affections? When you don’t mind the otherwise insufferably irritating sound of his/her cow-like gum chewing? True, this could be love… but must it be love? Is love something that develops? Is the love-at-first-sight to happily-married-couples ratio one to one million?

The greatest mystery of our time on earth is the ultimate and persistently inexplicit nature of love. Sometimes the love in one’s heart can be contained inside a [metaphoric] box, while at other times it is as large as the sun.
Is there such thing as young love? We often hear of high school sweethearts who married, grew old together, and never tired of each other. Is this luck, perhaps? Perhaps the person that they thought they loved as a teenager turned out to be the person that they were madly in love with as adults. Coincidence? It could be. It also could be a great and spectacular illusion.

Or it might be this concept of ‘Soul Mates’. I truly do believe in it, as cheesy as that is. I believe that there is one person in this world, only one, that we can fully give our hearts to. One person that we ought to be with; a person defined at our birth and theirs. Sure, there are illusions. But that’s all they are: illusions of something real. I see it as though there is a magnet inside me and a corresponding magnet within another and the universe is pulling us together because we are supposed to find each other. I think this comforts me because I can leave the tasking responsibility of finding my counterpart up to fate and I can quit trying so hard… and quit worrying, to boot.

However, I worry anyway. Come on now, we all knew I would.
This post has served no recognizable modicum of practicality as I initially intended to write it in order to reconcile my demons and achieve a peace of mind. Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing it immensely. I always enjoy sharing my thoughts with those who care enough to read them. In writing this, I sought some sort of solution for the vast range of feelings that have harbored within me lately; a cure for my plague… but I think I’m even more confused now.

So, tell me… what is love?

Love,
Julia

PS. I'm not through with this topic yet. You'll hear more of love from me.