The Emergence of ‘Love Is Not Life’
Agreements or disagreements?
An old-school girl built a home inside me, she pumps blood to my system, fluid to my libido, and rigor to my homebody. I draw her in the shades of my heart that shine through my shadows impregnating new dreams. In between, she is simply loving the play of hide and seek.
Once upon a time, I was all pumped up like an air balloon. When a sweet, gentle boy at school proposed to me, wrote a poem, sang a song, kept roses at my doorstep, or unexpectedly rang me to say, "I wanted to hear your voice," I would go all rocketing in my world, touching the age of puberty.
Those were the days, my friend!!
Alas! Today, I count the age of my approaching grey hair, some adamant strands gawking from the center, demanding therapy for bungling them thereafter. Meanwhile, I take my sweet time to pull them off the core: if ‘love isn’t life’ will I ever find someone who will accept my grey hair now transformed into gloomy thoughts too?
From meeting friends and losing interest to not clicking with anyone specific, a lightening moment numbed my mind more often than not. Growing up, I found myself independently strong to be stuck in my unrealistic expectations, whereas others were happily busy fabricating the facade of love stories. I can’t truly state, which is better. But I know that I couldn’t, for heaven's sake, connect with smarter folks or their ideology towards surviving love.
Here’s the question: What kept me ensconced in endless romantic dreams? When all I’ve received is a handful of soundless sleeping patterns?
My imagination has turned into a couch potato, constantly putting off new ideas in favor of the same old reruns. Yet, I question: Will the stars look more beautiful when someone named ‘love’ holds my hand? Will the heart-shaped white ducks announce our togetherness on a sight visit, or will the universe carve letters of our initials in the face of the clear clouds?
Will the TV ever be plugged into ‘before trilogy’, hands entwined below the dining table? Will ‘this’ and ‘like this’ ever happen to my life? I don’t know, but I know that I couldn’t know any better than this when it comes to love.
Then I rethink all about it and tell myself, ‘Everything couldn’t be a mere part of my imagination’, practically speaking, we see the stars, right, the beaches flow in real life, the TV is watched in the living room, then why is it difficult to have love instances occur in life ‘like this’?
Aren’t I spiritual enough to meet the right one? Aren’t I intuitive enough to see the wrong one? Am I not good enough to be the ‘all in one’?
Here’s the Ans: no heart will genuinely hug me singing “Love is Life,” and I am intuitive enough to know this.
No eyes will gaze upon me with the intensity they reserve for themselves. No reader can memorize my fragile stories and endure my feeble writing.
Soon, a time will come, when there will be no word called ‘love’ to explain togetherness—selfless choices, compromises, sacrifices, giving, kindness, care, and true intentions. People are simply not making commitments; they are finding excuses to stay away from it. Because it’s not easy, it’s a hell lot of work, and it needs a heart that beats. I see the rarity of those!
When they say love comes to the lucky ones, I resonate better and have grown up on love a little more than ever before. Today, my bones are not sleek enough to slip at a romantic gesture or fluid enough to rhyme alongside a song because there’s a new fad in the culture. It’s called the emergence of ‘life is not love’.
‘Love is not life’. Be cool and be the Mint. The world today isn’t looking for the long-lost old-school warmth, it’s looking for the rock-solid, thick skin to make your bones go fretting and freeze under relationships of minus-degree experience.
It will make you crazy, hair all plucked out & standing perpendicular above those steaming nostrils. Now be surprised, you’ve been bolted with a 1000-watt electric shock.
Hence, I live with a lost hope in love. Yet, I am still in love with the same old musical idea.
I am scooped full of the lush green minted realities, which look greener on the outside and steam away the heat of romance by mixing in everything that doesn’t go well in a spiced-up cocktail. 😎 I am going to throw up again and real soon.
P.S. Love is LIFE is love!
For further exciting reads that fret out your soul, read heartfelt columns at Catharsis Chronicles — Medium
