Oh!! The dilemma of falling in love!
Psychology defines love as the most wonderful thing in the world, after pizza, of course. <laugh>
For the philosopher, the question “what is love” generates a host of issues. For some, it is something far away from sensible, for some it is the means by which they live. Some have sought to analyse it, others have preferred to leave it.
The Greeks had a good sense to break love into four levels: “storge” was kinship, “philia” was friendship, “eros,” romantic love, and finally divine love was known as “agape.”
They might interpret the sentence, “I love you but I’m not ‘in love’ with you” to mean, “I feel philia toward you but not eros.” — basically friendszoned :D
But while the Greeks gave love four spots in the dictionary, this emotion was terribly feared. Both Plato and Socrates saw this emotion as, “Love is a serious mental disease,” and “Love is madness.” And it was the Greeks who coined the phrase, “lovesick.”
For me personally , love entered my life at the age of 16. Love was dark and short. Love had big eyes, Love said he would keep me happy forever. I believed him. Love held my hand wherever we went. One day, while crossing the highway, love left my hand and ran across the road to save himself from the approaching truck . I was left alone, alone in the middle of an overcrowded city , alone in the mid of an accident. Wasn’t love supposed to be selfless? Love did not care about me as much as he did for himself. I cringed. This love did not adhere to the definitions i had read, to the stories i had heard of. He wasn’t love.
The law of life states : what goes around, comes around. The L word struck me again. At the age of 18, Love was still short, but had smaller eyes. This love was cute, He was sensible, Love cared for me. Love held my hand and did not leave it even while crossing the road. Love was there when i needed him. I believed in him — He was love. But maybe , it did not believe in me. When i aced my college, i looked back expecting to see him happy . Instead — I could see him depressed, I could see him jealous. Love was selfish. I still decided to give it a second chance. Slowly and steadily, love bloomed. I was in love. Life took a drastic turn. And i had to leave the city of my dreams. I had to leave love. But it did not leave me. Not even in a different city. He was always there. We grew apart but not away. Out of sight, out of mind- did not hold true here. One day, I called love. I recited to him my entire day — But after the entire conversation, the only thing that love heard was that there had been a function in office and i had clicked pictures with everyone — even guys. Love was upset cause i had taken pictures with a male friend. Love was jealous. He abused me. He abused me of betrayal — when what i had done was clicked some harmless selfies with my male friends. Love wasnt love anymore. I did not believe in him henceforth.
Once bitten, twice shy. I was scared of love. I was scared of falling in love. But life had other plans. Love entered this picture frame again. Love was taller this time. Love was dark and had pretty eyes and the most charming smile. Love was cuter but not sensible enough. He held my hand wherever we went. He fed me with his hands when i refused to eat. Love wasnt jealous. He joined along when i clicked pictures with my other friends. Love was happy when i got awarded at office. Love was happier when i started playing a guitar — love knew my passion — he knew what made me happy. This love was thrilling and exciting. This love adhered to all the definitions , i had heard of, all the stories i had read. If people were rain, i’d be a drizzle and he a hurricane. Love was too good to be true. The unfortunate happened. He left like a shattered dream. He left without a reason. Love was selfish. He left cause he had found a different one.
Looking back, I often wonder which one was love? The one who taught me how to love by introducing me to the word or the one who held my hand in the middle of this city and never made me feel alone or the one who laughed when i laughed, was sad when i cried and always motivated me to be better?
Any which way, love was selfish. He always put himself before me if need be.
Love was jealous. He wanted to own me.
Love always left, when it found a better human.
Today, i am bewildered when asked about love. Eventually, Love made an entry again. But this time in a completely different form. Love did not hold my hand, instead taught me how to cross the road alone. Love was there but did not make me dependent on him. Love waited for me before breakfast and lunch. Love asked me if i was okay and tickled me when i said no. Love made me laugh. He missed me without no definite reason. He telephoned me when i skipped office, He often dropped by my desk just to say a “hi” . Love was happy when i won something, love was happier when i wrote my first speech. Love teased me with other guys, he protected me from other guys. This love wasn’t jealous. This love was selfless.
“Perhaps, after all, love did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a knight riding on a horse; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps. . .love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its thorns.”
The only definition, that love must adhere to: Love is friendship and friendship is love.