Love,
love, goddamn love.
I
love you, I love you not. I love him, her, us, and the moon.
I
love the idea of love, but I hate the idea that love is the only thing that I’m
supposed to really love.
While
I understand that love may just be the most honest human emotions we possess, I
also believe that love doesn’t need to be solidified by another living,
breathing human being, nor does it need to come from the mouth of someone else
to be real.
Love
is necessary, but it’s not necessary on the level society has led you to
believe. It’s led you to believe that your worth comes from finding a man or
woman to say those words to you, to wrap his or her arms around you and whisper
it in your hair and on your cheeks.
Society
has conditioned you to think that loving anything else is just the precursor to
finding the real thing. That the love you have for your job, your friends, your
family are only holding places, appetizers
for the one love that’s real.
They’ve
put pressure on you to believe that life is not complete until you’ve found
someone to whisper “I love you.”
To
be frank, I’m fed up with this notion of love. I’m tired of it being the only
real thing. I’m tired of believing someone else’s love is the only love that’s
worth my time. I’m tired of thinking my life hasn’t really started yet because
I don’t have anyone who loves me.
Because
I find love in other places, places that will always love me back and never
break my heart. I find love in obscure notions and books and dead poets.
My
life is complete and I am happy, and I’ve find so many important things besides
a man to love me.
I
love art: museums, galleries and impressionist paintings. I love jazz music and
strolls through Parks. I love my friends, my job and the people I see every
day.
I
love the fall and the spring and those hot summer days. I love coffee-flavored
ice cream and the way a good book smells. I love reading in the afternoons and
watching too much TV at night. I love my shows on Netflix and movies by Woody
Allen, Federico Fellini and Martin Scorsese.
I
love my parents and my brother and my sister. I love my home, my dog and my
cat. I love to love things and I believe this affair could really last a
lifetime.
I
love getting absorbed by, obsessed with and absolutely enamored of things
around me. I love becoming completely indulged in my love affairs, smothering
them until we both can’t breathe. I love seeing them whenever I want and never
playing games with them.
I
love learning about them, where they come from, who they’ve been with and where
they’re going. I love following their history and their future, becoming
another fan, another lover of them.
I
love telling people about my loves and my passion. I love sharing our stories
and inviting people to join in our romance. I love introducing them to my
parents and friends, taking them to dinner parties and weekend trips.
I
love showing them my apartment and taking the subway with them. I love that
they are there when I get home from work and when I wake up in the morning. I
love that they will never leave unless I tell them to.
When
did loving your life, your passions and your days become so unimportant? When
did the love of someone else become the ONLY important kind of love there
is? If you ask me, your life should be about finding as many things to love as
possible and letting those things love you back.
Let
the love you make yourself be enough for you, because even when you do find the
“real” thing, those loves will still be
there, and will still be important.
Stop
letting everyone else dictate what kind of love is worthy. Don’t let people
make you think you’re not adequate without someone loving you.
Life
is about finding love everywhere and forgetting about that kind of love
everyone has made you believes is so goddamn important.
Many have wasted their life searching,
seeking, and waiting for the REAL love and now they have forgot how to love,
because loving is what we do every minutes that we are alive. I love Hebrew language
it has so many names and form for all different kind of relationship that love
could exist! Any love that won't allow you to love others or things is an ENSLAVING love and its end is BONDAGE and TORTURE!
Originally Written by Lauren Martin for Elite Daily.
(Edited.)
Your views are most welcome...
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