Sunday, May 8, 2011

I wanna. I wanna. I gotta be adored.

So my boyfriend and I recently admitted that we are falling in love with each other.

"We're definitely on our way," as he puts it.

Half of me is exhilerated--shouldn't we all aim to be that brutally honest and openly suspectible to love? I always thought love's Nirvana would be described as a place where nobody is keeping score anymore. A place where you're free to stand ontop of a street bench and tell the whole world how much you love your significant other; where all trust issues simply dissipate.

I would be so happy just having that. For a (premature) period of time, my greatest fear growing up was to one day wake up next to the wrong person. I'd turn next to me and wonder, "Where's the love of my life?"

But of course, nothing in life works out accordingly. We can't all have what we want. The cynic in the back of my head recognizes the boundaries between sheer fantasy and reality. We can't all have the fairytale wedding and the happy marriage. Part of me is in love with the idea of love; its many manifestations and the promise that it is indeed what gives life purpose.

The other part of me is mortified.

"What's your favourite thing about me?"
"Your personality."

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