Love’s string of unmet expectations

Love is tricky, it’s lonely and sad. Love is delusional. Falling in love is like floating in a world of fancy, imagining different possibilities to one fairy tale that has a definite dead end, disappointment and grief. And even if love was rewarded by some sort of satisfaction, a happy ending, for sure it is a dream, sure it is an ending, an ending to all other possibilities, all other dreams. Thinking that we’re now living the dream, one gets lost in his own contemplation, thinking this is it. Well more disappointment are always yet to come, for no dream is ever to be realized as imagined, and those imperfections grieves us the most . Nothing is as hurtful as a pile of unmet expectations. That’s how love is, whether existent, longed for, chased or forever hoped to have, love is agonistic, disappointing, and lasting. Which is why we all long to have it. For honestly we can’t help it, it is our drive, our guide, our light that shine upon the darkness of each day, enlightening our desperate horizon.
Even in its absence it still is our drive, for it grants us hope, purpose, a reason to wake up every morning and to long and strive for a feeling that moves every insignificant cell in our organism, it gives it meaning. Even through the sadness of those unmet expectations; that unaccomplished love when not reunited with those we worship the most, as ironic as it seems being in love, feeling that agony still gives us satisfaction and the most extraordinary irrational feeling of happiness. I believe we’re just thankful for such a Devine mission, when one is no longer living for one’s self, no longer aimless, no longer lost. even when the ones we love are with other people, moving on with their lives, somehow we still hold on to that soul nurturing feeling, hoping that one day they would realize that such love exists and even if they don’t we for some reason still tag along dangling, and stumbling into their lives, thinking that just being part of their existence may make a difference. And even though it might not, we’re just satisfied with the mere satisfaction of longing. that somewhere out there is someone worth living for. such love should not be dismissed, nor denied, nor disguised , for that is solely a treacherous betrayal to one’s true emotions, to one’s true self , and most importantly to the ever after treasurable bless cursed upon us.
Thus here I’m, not disguising, nor hiding nor betraying, but confessing that somehow for some reason, and as unwanted as it is, I’m unfortunately dangling to a string of dead ends. This succession of unmet expectations and the funny thing is, I know that, I’m completely, insanely irrationally aware of it. but the thing is, I can’t escape even if I wanted to, that’s how love is , once in, there is no way out, nothing to do but to dive further and deeper into those scary mysterious and hope that salvation might be somewhere in there. If not just be grateful for the ride, and the chance to be alive, to feel alive and to carry on living, and loving.



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