Nonsensical Sense

Sometimes with moments like these, I tend to remember that shimmer, or speckle of what the thought of love might be. I tend to write these blurbs as a way of exercise my right to argue myself. I show myself that I’m not always right. Like the seasons, my perspective on things change, maybe even as frequent, or more appropriately as often as the wind changes direction. Ill never figure out exactly what happens, or what inside me changes to frequently when I touch on the subject of what love is, so perhaps ill leave that up to whoever reads this to explain it to me later. Perhaps give me some sort of insight as to how my psyche operates. Now, on to my explanation of what I believe love to be today. I believe love to by the moment where you notice that the person you have feelings for deserves more then you can offer, but it perhaps means something more when you promise yourself to do whatever it takes just to give her what you cant, currently. Its that moment when, in my case, her head is buried in your chest with your arms wrapped around her, knowing that together, there’s no place else you’d rather be spending your time. Knowing full well that your protected, safe and ultimately loved. Its that moment where the first thing you think about when you wake up is her, it’s that moment where the last thing you think about before you fall asleep is her. It’s the sappy type of connection where you feel like every love song ever played seemed like a song written specifically for the shortness of breath you’re experiencing, or that moment where you forget to think because all you can think about is those eyes that you can’t pull away from. Love to me, today, seems to be the expression best suited to explain how id walk to her house just to tell her to have a good sleep, and that ill talk to her tomorrow. Through the rain, through the mud and the puddles, in a simple hope to see that smile once more before we both close our eyes for the day, because we both know the phone could never properly do the job. Love to me today seems to want to be written as an expression of how bad I would love to be the one she will be crying to next, but not about. Some say that as we mature, we move away from over dramatics, and we become realists in a real world. What happened to the children who never grew up in the idea that we wanted to keep all those hopeless stories of romance as our guidelines to the way we want to fall in love someday. The kind of adults, grown up from children who never forgot the real meaning of falling in love. I write this not only to myself, but to all people who dont think that love is some hopeless expression of a soon to be forgotten emotion, best described as a piece of fiction. Its to the people who believe in love at first sight. Its to people who never forget what it means to have a spark, a connection, a click. Its to the people who write stories like mine who cant help but wonder what she’s doing now, and if she feels the way I do… about anything. Regardless of what happens next, ill never forget those eyes, and ill never forget the way I feel now.