We make so many mistakes when it comes to the question of love. We ache to be in love, even when we know that we won’t be able to handle it at a given time. Then, when we do fall in love, we tend to fall in love with people who are wrong for us, or who do not love us back. If and when we do find someone who loves us back, time soon comes as the great leveler of romance.
It confuses us with thoughts of what love ought to be, and how romance should have lasted. There is a mix-up of sorts and we tend to think of the gradual, staid warmth of love to be a poor substitute for the initial, tumultuous heat. We wonder. We worry we have lost what we had. We demand more. And then – then, we lose what was hard sought after. We forget what it took to get us to that point. Instead of understanding its progression, we mistake it as regression.
Maybe we get greedy. Maybe we deserve more. Who knows? What I do know is that we take what we have for granted. We forget how we felt before we had it and comparisons are made with probable things. Pride takes over, and most times, lies come crawling in. And the love that you had sought becomes something cold.
If it ever truly existed, love never dies. We bury it alive, in its comatose state.
A Different Me 