It's been a while since I've truly loved, in the naive and passionate and romantic sense of the word. My heart got broken six years ago, and it hasn't really quite healed. I've been aloof and distanced ever since. I don't think I've put myself at risk emotionally ever since that time, as my mind constantly overrules my heart. While that fact may be useful, even convenient at times, is that any way to truly live?
How long ago has it been when calling a girl up has been full of tension? Merely dialing her phone number causes me to hear the thumping of my heart. Each ring of the phone brings about a certain suspense, and I'm torn with anxiety as a part of me hopes the phone continues to ring as I think up of what words to say, and another part of me wants it to be answered so I can finally hear her voice. And when the ringing finally stops, there excitement once more. Who picked it up? The stern father? The curious mother? The annoying sibling? Or is it the love of my life herself? And then my mind races to come up with something intelligent to say.
What happened to the moment when you treasured every instance of her? It's not simply catching a glimpse of her, either in real life or in photographs, but in all the other senses: scent, touch, voice. There will also be events that will simply remind me of her: her favorite food, the music she listens to, the shows she watches on TV, or the books she reads. I imagine what it'd be like if she were there, and we'd strike up the perfect conversation. It never comes to pass though, and all I have to treasure are the simple words that comes out of her mouth: "hello", "thank you", "goodbye".
What ever happened to all those sleepless nights, when dreams and figments of her would replay itself in your mind? Everything else seems to pale in comparison, and focusing on any one activity becomes impossible. The most tempting thoughts are those moments when I've constructed the perfect ending to our relationship: either the happily-ever-after type of ending where I get to be with her for the rest of my life, or something more martyric, such as me dying in her arms after making the ultimate sacrifice simply to gain her love.
And in the end, people will merely claim that it's all an emotion, a simple crush or boying infatuation. It can all be explained via hormones or enzymes secreted by the brain or a genetic survival instinct. Yet does all that reasoning matter?
Perhaps the hardest choice is when you keep at it despite the dissipating emotions. Love will take several forms after all, and perhaps the most enduring one is when you choose to love, rather than simply letting your turmoil of emotions sweep you. But what would I know. My heart got broken a long time ago.