Where is the love?

Have you ever wondered why our first love is often the most obsessive?

It may not necessarily be the truest, but it certainly is the freest, and largely devoid of deception.
At that first time, we give everything and hold too tightly to everything because were yet to know that life does not expect us to hold onto everything, because some things are actually meant to just pass by. But our heart expects us to LOVE, in spite.

And also, not much informed us how lousy a shot our emotion could be, that that one we love so truly may be deeply loving someone else who does not really love them in return, so a lot of love actually gets lost in between, giving way to so much pain on all sides; on all sides because when so much affection is directed to someone who doesn’t feel the same way, it will only amount to suffocation.

Whether or not your heart started breaking at fifteen; we all grow up with a romantic picture of that perfect person, the so-called love of our life, the dream man/woman. Whatever happened to that fantasy would be hidden somewhere in the history of personal experiences. But one thing remains central: we are set on a treadmill that continues until we make a choice.

Down the lane of life, at the point of this choice, we may have also come to the discomforting understanding that our perfect picture has actually been tainted by our disappointments, by our pains, by our new discoveries and realization of unrealizable dreams. Perhaps, this is where reality.com.
Unfortunately, this is also where a lot get so confused and settle for far less, or anything. But actually, this is where we should remake our dreams in consonance with reality. This is where our fantasies should give way to higher truths. Where loving should mean accepting people for whom they are and giving things ‘you can afford’ even though you know you might lose them.

I can not conclude this without mentioning the treachery that we all, in one way or the other, sinners or saints, are guilty of even in the love zone: the black or white lies, the cheats, the heart breaks; though we never realize that the more we break hearts that will be the more our own heart learns to break however surreptitiously.

And in the end, what we have is love that is affected by time and battered by our numerous experiences.

© J.Ifeme