The saying goes something like this: the eyes are the windows of the soul. This study proves the saying true as it showed how staring into a person's eyes for 4 minutes will bring the two closer.
This video is beautiful, and shows how a moment of silence and searching (or staring) will unravel the walls that we build around ourselves. It is amazing how much we can feel and understand simply by staring at our loved ones, how much emotions it can conjure, how much love will touch and move us.The old couple's evaluation after their staring-session is exceptionally poignant.
They way the old lady said they've never looked at each other like this in the 55 years of their marriage and how sometimes she looks into his eyes to check his blood pressure, the way the old gentleman said when he looked into his wife's eyes, he realizes how much he needs her and how much she means to him, is just plain lovely. And the way the old lady's eyes smiles and shines, and the way the old gentleman's voice cracked as he spoke; this is true love. They may have only looked at each other for 4 minutes This is the love that endures.
Writer Mandy Len Catron refers to a study about love conducted by psychologist Arthur Aron in her Modern Love essay, “To Fall in Love With Anyone, Do This”, that there are 36 questions that one can ask a stranger to determine if the stranger will be one's true love. This Vice video features a bunch of volunteers, trying these questions out. Of course, not everyone meets their perfect stranger that easily, but I think it quite a fun thing to do, and a way to get intimate and open up to people as well as oneself. There is, of course, no direct train to Destination True Love; but I think these questions is an express train to all sorts of things one usually get to understand about the other person as they go deeper into a relationship. Though, isn't the learning and slow unravelling of oneself to another soul, or vice versa, that make love interesting, that make love complex as it is, that make finding true love all the more meaningful and precious? Well, who cares? No harm trying it out, just for fun.
In the spirit of Valentines' day, here is Plug & Play, a somewhat dark, slightly comedic and satirical commentary on love. This experimental short by Michael Frei can be described as quirky, eerie, uncomforting (at times), confusing and somehow at the end, relatable and real. What this 6-minute short film explores and brings to the table about human relationships and love are modern and universal. Through these humaniod figures and the trippy journey, viewers go through the modern process of finding love.
The scene where the two humaniods with the most distant voices talk to each other is as realistic an interpretation of modern love as it gets.
'I love you.'
'I don't think I love you.'
'Are you sure?'
'No.'
'I think you love me.'
'I don't love you enough.'
'I think I don't love you enough either. But I know I love you.'
'I'm not sure, you're too slow for me.'
'You are too busy, but I love you. Do you want to hug me.'
'Yes I do. But it might be wrong.'
'I love you.'
'I don't think you love me.'
'I know I love you.'
'...'
'Are you waiting for me to say something?'
'I can't leave.'
'Maybe I will miss you when I leave you.'
'It hurts. It hurts.'
'I'm leaving.'
From looking at the wrong persons, to rejections, to getting hurt, to changing yourself to fit others, to connecting with the right one, then others joining in the party until it's all a mess and your heart's a broken mess. The divine fingers clicks at the buttons, torn and unable to make any right decisions. And you end up losing yourself chasing after the wrong person and fighting within yourself between 'yeses' and 'nos'. This short is the summary of modern love.
P.S. They have also made an interactive app which is quite interesting. (I wouldn't say fun, but interesting.) Players get to control and be as loving or cruel or uninterested or confused as you wish to be and see where the journey takes you.
Not much of a clue where this rant is going, and not that I'm at that point of losing, or having lost anyone. Just that perhaps I have reached the point that I've found someone I fear losing. Perhaps that's why, lately, I've had this thought in my head. Isn't it funny how once we've found someone, we could't stand to lose them?
Or put it in another way. See, we are all born alone. Of course, we have our mother, our father, our sisters and brothers, and we are attached to them. We are born with the same blood flowing in our veins. Yes, we will be afraid to lose them. But other than that, we were practically alone. We were perfectly alone. We weren't afraid to lose anything.
A warm handhold at the park, a gentle brush of the lips on the cheek, a breath of strawberry chapstick, a tender curl of hair behind the ear, and everything changes. A stranger has all of a sudden become everything. We believe that we've found the pearl of the ocean and we know we never want to part with it.
All of a sudden, we couldn't be alone. We grew attached and we couldn't stand the thought of losing him or her. W grew to believe that the earth would crack, darkness would descend and the world would end if we ever lose that person (that was once a stranger) who has become so important to us.
And when it's really over, we'll probably find that the world isn't ending. But we wouldn't believe it at first, because we think we've lost everything. And I guess some of us will know in the end that it's not the end of the world. Some will be fine with being alone again. Some will be warmed by other hands and other kisses. But some might never go back to how it was used to be.
And honestly, I don't know how to end this post either. I think all I can say is, I hope I never lose anyone that is important to me, who I get attached to. But at the same time, I'd like to think of myself as the ones that, when the time really comes, know that I was once perfectly fine on my own.
I swear, my heart broke a little when her voice started breaking in the middle of the poem. From her loud desperate cries and wails, I could feel that Mans was as shattered, crushed and crumbled as she said she was, if not more so. The pain, the agony in her voice is so immense that now I am terribly afraid of being heart broken, even more so than before.
I love the imageries she used in the poem, it's all so poetic. 'Lay my heart on his chest like red roses on Mahogany caskets', 'we loved, like there were expiration dates tattooed on our inner thighs', 'your heartbeat sounded like guns shells tripping over battered cement', 'never regret loving in permanent ink', 'with hearts filled with thousand of fireflies', 'we hurt like c-section birthing dead babies'... All of these lines, filled with death, beauty, hopelessness, intimacy, violence, pain and light; it is something to produce words and lines as such. And it takes some experience, some hurt and some broken heart and some courage, to be able to write and read like Mans does.
Dear Ex Lover,I hope my daughter never knows what a goodbye kiss feels like…
I hope she never knows what “I’ll see you later.” really means.
I hope she never memorizes the dial-tone of a last conversation,
because a broken heart feels like poisoned butterflies taking their last flutters in the pit of your stomach
This single stanza caught my eyes and ears when I first heard this poem. This stanza is so relatable, so real. It will be great to never know what a goodbye kiss feels like. And never experience the loss, the losing of a person, of love, that would never come back. Because a broken heart, feels like the poisoned butterflies dying and corroding into your acid stomach. Mans sounded so personal in these lines, and made them sincere prayers for the innocence and happiness of her future daughter, the protection from pain and sorrows.
One of my favorite line in Mans' poem is 'And that we loved women who loved women, who loved people that did not love us.' This line is so strong, so desolate and absolute. That was the end and the truth for Mans. Well, and then this line obviously does not solely work for female female relationships. It works for everyone and any type of love. And that we loved people who loved people, who loved the persons that did not love us...Because love is a game that makes strangers fall for strangers, and turns strangers into lovers and into strangers.
'Never regret loving in permanent ink.'
This is the line that struck me most. I know as of now, I am paving my own way, either to a deathly fall that would kill my heart, or a nirvana of love and affection. I desperately hope that the latter one would be the truth. No matter how happy I am now, it is hard to be naive and assume that things will be all happily ever after. It is all kind of sad, I understand, but then I promised to believe and so I will.
I don't think I will regret loving in permanent ink, I am just quite afraid of loving in permanant ink. Anyhow, the needles are already going deeper and deeper now and the ink is already spreading all over. I sincerely wish I never have to 'stop chasing memories in my dreams', and can dream up worlds and blue skies, diners and fire escapes, beds and rooftops and everything else, and never have to stop. I hope I could cry and pray and laugh with love 'like our smiles were the only ones that mattered in this world' till the day...till th
Dear Ex Lover,
I promise I’ll stop chasing your memory in my dreams. I’ll stop bringing your
name up over cups of coffee, muffins, and loneliness. I will marry a man and I will lay my heart on his chest like red roses on Mahogany caskets and I’ll have his daughter and she’ll have eyes reminding me that God still believes in second chances.
And if she ever decided to love a woman, I will rub bravery down her spine. I will be reminded of all the times that we loved, like there were expiration dates tattooed on our inner thighs. If she ever comes home with eyelids like cracking Levis and bruised kneecaps and a heart filled with question marks I will hold her like my mother never held me.
I will clasp her face in my palms like the new testament on judgement day. I’ll tell her that love is the passion that allows you to do the right thing, and that no woman can play coaster to a half empty heart. And if she ever feels as if she is alone, as if she is a hand-me-down pulled out of the depths of mummy’s closet.
I’ll remember your name and I’ll mumble it under my breath and if she asks me what I said; I’ll tell her I know what it’s like to drag a woman out of a cold war and then being too worn to clean up the battlefield that it has made of you. I’ll tell her that your heartbeat sounded like gun shells tripping over battered cement.
I’ll tell her that i know what it’s like just to want someone to remember you and that some women are as foul as expired men in produce isles and that apologies are like oxygen masks on a hijacked plane. Forgive yourself before you ever forgive the person sitting next to you. I’ll tell her to never regret loving in permanent ink, and that scars only give you stretch marks, something to gossip about and that hearts and stop signs are fraternal twins, lost in open roads and hollow chests.
And if my daughter’s mirror ever looks unfamiliar and she’s too embarrassed and prideful to run into mummy’s arms I’ll pray, that she has friends with hearts filled with thousands of fire flies, who are not too cool to pray with her, who will tell her to stop looking for the light at the end of the tunnel and find God in the darkness.
If my daughter ever walks in my house like shattering glass, I’ll tell her about you. I’ll tell her that we hurt like c-sections birthing dead babies, and that we cried together, and we prayed together, and we laughed like our smiles were the only ones that mattered in this world. And that we hurt like women who loved women, who loved people that did not love us.
Dear Ex Lover,I hope my daughter never knows what a goodbye kiss feels like… I hope she never knows what “I’ll see you later.” really means. I hope she never memorizes the dial-tone of a last conversation, because a broken heart feels like poisoned butterflies taking their last flutters in the pit of your stomach
Dear Ex Lover, I hope my daughter never bears her soul at a poetry showcase with her first love sitting in the audience, knowing that the hands she’ll use to applaud her with, will be the same hands that will never hold her again.
When you miss someone, you find yourself lying in your bed
past midnight, with a warm drop of tear rolling down the side of your face, and
you realize you are crying. Sometimes, you want to cry. You think that tears will wash away all sorrows and wash you closer ashore. It does sometimes. But sometimes, you just wail and
wail until your voice breaks and your eyes swell and you notice: nothing has
changed. The distance is still present.
When you miss someone, you find yourself lying awake at
4am in the morning, counting the stars between you and love. And you fall in
and out of sleep, because your heart tugs at you, reminding you to remember and
to miss. For most of the time, love is the first thought in your mind when you
awaken. When you open your eyes, you think of the face that you miss so much.
You wish that you could feel the warmth of the other body beside you, or smell
the familiar scent of love. And you realize every time, after you have come to
yourself, that you are alone.
When you miss someone, you find your heart beating and
thumping, sometimes louder than ever, trying to signal to the other heart half
way across the globe that you are missing love. Or you find your heart beating
silently, listening for a distinct beat, synchronized to yours, signaling to
you half way across the globe too, telling you the very same. Sometimes your
heart hears it, senses it and you become warm and filled up. But sometimes you
won't. And that is when it all gets dark.
But missing someone is not all heartache.
Missing someone is hope. Every dawn is a reminder that you
are one day closer to seeing love again. Every night is a chance for you and
love to meet among the clouds, or make out on the grass, or sit on the fire
escape, gazing out at the terrain of big churches and small houses below the
golden haze.
Missing someone is building castles in the air. Every time you raise
your hand to touch the illuminated glass screen,you close your eyes and feel
the stubbles on love's cheeks. When your spirits sank, you hear love humming
from across the seas, and you find yourself curled up in love's embrace.
Missing someone is patience. Every wave of dire longing
are waves you learn to overcome. You choke and you fall, but you are going to
rise back up every time because you know you care and you will never let the warm waters
go. You know that one day, you will ride the waves in glory, with love's arms
wrapped tightly around you and you will rejoice.
Missing someone is a reminder that you can feel. Every
emotions that strike your heartstrings, every joy and sorrow that roll around
the tip of your tongue or down your face show that you are capable of staying
consistent, of not changing, of holding on and of not letting go.
Missing someone is hard, is painful, but is also beautiful
and lovely. Because every time you and love connect, it is the best feeling of
all.
I enjoyed Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, so I guess it is inevitable that I love Before Midnight as well. I've always felt that this series of movies is so different from other movie sequels. All of the Before series (let's just call them the Before series since they all have that word in common) are consist of long shots of conversations, interesting and insightful conversations, conversations about Celine and Jessie's thoughts and ideas about life and love and of each other.
It was another nine years since we revisit Jessie and Celine, and well, if you are old enough and mature enough to have watched Before Sunrise since day one, you will say that you have grown up, grown old and grown mature with them. Imagine you were the same age as Jessie and Celine when Before Sunrise went in theaters, literally you are growing up with them. Even though I am only birthed in 1995, I do feel like as I watch Jessie and Celine's lives progress, they have grown. The topics and the things that they talk about, things that they think of, their thoughts and ideas, have changed and matured. They saw things differently. Before Sunrise is full of hopes and dreams, full of enthusiasm and excitement of the future. Before Midnight here, is about grown ups, about matured love, about family and the burdens of daily lives. Before Midnight is about two people sorting out their lives.
The way the actors aged with their characters too, is impeccable. Julie Deply has grown, well, a little plump and more feminine, more maternal. Ethan Hawke has grown mature and has grown a few wrinkles and a belly. But this is all alright because this is how reality is. This is how real life relationship is and how real people are. People age, nobody can always be young and perfect.
Jessie and Celine's relationship is obviously not perfect as well. Just like any other couple, they argue and they hate each other and then they make up. The climax of the entire movie (given the movie is filled with conversations around lunch tables and long walks and car drives) is when the couple is arguing in the hotel room about sacrifices and their love for each other, how the other person's love is not enough, how the other person have fucked another girl or blew another man. It's an argument that any couple will most probably have. The way they make up though, is extremely cute. I love Jessie's story.
I also love the chemistry between those two. Their conversations are witty and interesting. Yes, they are long, but they are absorbing and hook me right in. I wish I could have a relationship as such.
This is a story about that awkward kid in every class, every school. This is a story about 8-years old Andy, an outcast at school, who thought he has super powers. This is a story about a young boy's life, about his fantasies, being bullied and being, well, being a man.
There is something about Andy's face. This child's face seemed old and worn, as if he has tasted pain and suffering at his young age. And I wonder what gives a child that torn up look. The looks his eyes give, those tense lips and tight frowns. He is the outcast, the odd ball, the target for bully, and maybe this is why he has the face of an old man, shattered and battered by life. His shoulder bag was heavy on his shoulders, way too big a burden for him to carry. They way he screams as he is swinging his shoulder bag at the bullies, they way he lose it... Andy is as if full of anger and unsatisfaction, and pain. He never smiled during the movie, well, except for at the end when he won the competition with his drawing.
He is a man in a little boy's body. He is a real man. He is the brave one to climb up to the roof to get the girl's ball. He is courageous enough to hold all the responsibility.
Andy is truly a superhero, the hero who has saved his girl from the punishment.
In this darkly fantastical and romantic short, Ray Tintori has delivered a story of revolution and wars for love. The short film definitely touch viewers with the great sacrificing heart of Bill, as he fights so hard, even while he has lost his body, for the girl he loves. The black and white adds to the dark and mystical feel of the short, and the ending is especially bitter to watch. I give it a 9.5/10.
Well, nothing much to say about this one, but that if you have such relationship with your significant other or with anyone in your life, you're lucky and blessed. And I think I am one of those lucky ones who have friendships as such. Yes, I am talking about you L and M and S.
Stop being polite and start getting real. This is Tim's quote from day 11.
Nice guys finish last, right? It is always the case. And it is easy to say, how we all got to stop being just nice, how we got to be ourselves. It is difficult to do, however. When I see someone I like, it is always difficult to let loose and be myself, because I will naturally tense up and be nervous. I will wonder if what I am doing is intruding his personal space, if he likes me doing certain things, if he will judge me if I do something, or don't do something. For people like me, who are extremely shy and quite thin-skinned, when we see someone we like, we tend to retreat and admire from afar, rather than going at them, declaring (or hinting) of feelings and of love. We will be afraid that they will know that we want more because we will just be laughing stocks if they don't return the feelings. It will be awkward, I always believed.
The thing is, how we are acting is making everything awkward. It is us who is building this wall between ourselves and them potential lovers because we are acting differently when we're with them. We express and communicate with them differently than we express and communicate with our other friends and peoples. And we end up awkwardly interested and withdrawn at the same time (I have no idea how I manage to achieve that), and this only makes the situation more confusing and weird.
Wish me luck and bless me and my future romantic endeavors.
(40DD as in 40 Days of Dating. Sure, y'all should have gotten it. Y'all smart readers.)
Well, both Jessie and Tim are quirky in their own ways, I guess. I mean, who will think of and participate in experiments as this and broadcast it for the whole world to see? They are both creative minds and artsy, and by general stereotype, a little weird, but definitely in a cool way so it seems from all the blog entries and videos they've made.
Everybody is a little weird in their own way. And just like what the above quote, love is finding someone whose weirdness matches yours, someone who you are comfortable with and comfortable with you; someone in sync with your weirdness.
I remember watching a short performance in theatre class in high school, a silent performance with only music and the three actors on stage. The girl was wandering around with her paper-cut heart, matching it with the other paper-cut hearts that the other two male actors were holding. The two male actors were channeling different characters every time they reappear on stage and held different paper-cut hearts. Those paper-cut hearts were all different; they were raw-edged, pointy, fat, slender, broken, red, pink and all that you could think of. And of course, we could all guess it, eventually one of the male actor came out with a matching heart and the boy and the girl go through a fast forward of getting married growing old together and all that fairytale ending.
Well, I guess that pretty much sums up what love is, right? To be the lucky one and find the heart that matches yours.
(This is the point of view of the rookie in the love industry. And yes, you may laugh at me if it's not the case.)
I just finished reading this blog. It is about how a pair of best friends, who are both single and have their own issues with relationships, decided to work on an experiment: to date each other for 40 days and chronicling their feelings daily. There are loads of images and artsy typography in the entries every day (no surprise they are both creative minds and got creative friends). It is an extremely interesting read and soon after I began to read it I find myself absorbed into their relationship. It is an extremely risky experiment, a close friendship was at stake. I would love to try it though with my guy best friend. I would.
Well, reading honest and personal diary entries of Jessie and Tim for 40 days have surely given me insight to what relationships should be. Being pathetically single that I am, I am reading to prepare myself for my future romantic endeavors. They have all these cute quotes at the beginning of each entry and I'd like to say something about. I will start a series perhaps. And the next post will be the first one.
You must check the blog out: fortydaysofdating.com
The Perils of Growing Up Flat-Chested is a romantic short by Yulin Kuang. Katya is, well, a flat-chested girl, and she is quite insecure about the size of her breasts. She tries hard to make them grow bigger before her study date with her crush, Owen. Things did not turn out the way she thinks they would, and the short ends with Owen and Katya talking it out above a swimming pool, the unravelling of their insecurities and the beginning of a relationship.
Irene Choi (Katya) captured her character well, with the insecurities and anxiety of a high school teenaged girl. The short is an adorable and honest depiction of what goes through a teenage girl's mind in her coming of age years; not only with the breasts, but the nervousness and awkwardness of finding the right guy, of starting a relationship.
Being a small-chested girl that I am, I have moved past the phase of hating them or being ashamed of them. Or actually, I don't think I have ever disliked my breasts, so I couldn't say I relate to Katya that much, even though we are kind of on the same boat. I guess I never was the type to crave for bigger chests. I just find having two big blobs of fat in front of your chest pretty inconvenient. Don't be mistaken though, I totally love the shape of women's body. If you are blessed with a big chest, you go, girl! I've never thought into this that much, that the size of my breasts, or a girl's breasts will affect her love life. I mean, if it does, if a guy doesn't want you because of your bust size, girl, he is NOT a keeper.
There are two things Owen said while they were sitting on the diving board that made me pause and think for a second. The first is, 'We (as in boys) consider ourselves lucky just to touch you'. The first reaction I had to this line while watching it was, 'are we that precious?' Society and the media have built up a certain sense of preciousness in women and I can't say it is a good or a bad thing. It's bad in a sense that it creates a certain barrier between males and females, as if women are untouchables, and men have to tip-toe and find a way around every time. While, it's good obviously, because we don't need no more sexual molesters roaming the streets harassing people. It's ultimately good, I guess.
The second thing that Owen said is, 'Look, I don't have a six pack. I have this weird belly button.' Being a girl, I maximize my insecurities a whole ton, and always think that guys have no such problems. Silly enough, I didn't actually realize (I mean I do see it on TV and movies and stuff, but...) guys crush on girls too, until I was maybe 14 years old. What Owen said reminds me that everybody has insecurities and I am not alone. You are not alone.
I really enjoyed this short and it is definitely a delightful story to see.
It sure was a spur of the moment decision when my sister and I decided to watch The Spectacular Now. I was drawn by the poster, as any romantic will do, and in we went into the movie theater. It is a great decision. I enjoyed the movie. I love movies that tugs at my heart strings slightly, and it is exactly what this movie does to me. I give it a 4 out of 5 perhaps.
It was quite a lovely coming-of-age movie, with the mixture of modern day love and family issues, and adolescent innocence, as well as complications. The movie depicts average life, and the little bits and pieces of hardships and miraculous moments among the average. It captured the beauty of average and of love. Miles Teller gives a wonderful performance of Sutter, a troubled teen trying to find himself amidst the many unanswered questions and insecurities in his life. Upon meeting Aimee (Shailene Woodly, btw she's so pretty), Sutter started to figure himself out. I was sucked into Sutter's journey of finding his true self, and during the process have experienced reflections of my own.
I am like Amiee, I think ahead. Unlike Sutter, who have to learn to think for the future, I have to learn to live in the present, and embrace it no matter good or bad or just meh. The Spectacular Now. It is such a wonderful title for the movie, for any movie. It is such a beautiful phrase, and it speaks the truth. The present is spectacular, and as Sutter says in the movie, 'we will never be as young as we are tonight.' (it's something similar, I forgot the exact wordings, sorry)
This is the first movie I saw in the States, and I saw it with my sister, who I haven't hung out with for more that a full year. I am in America, waiting for my new adventure to begin. I have my family by my side, and my whole future ahead of me. This is my spectacular now.
I've seen this in my tumblr dashboard for a few times, but lately, I have no idea why it keeps coming up agian and again. Anyway, Devendra Banhart and Ana Kras has, like, the most amazing and romantic love story in my opinion. I don't think I could ever be so spontaneous. Oh, and they are one of the chic-est and coolest couple out there in my opinion. I want their life...
(He looks so much better with short hair, btw. And seeing him and ana in fashion shows and Kooples posters...gosh, such transformation.)
It's honesty hour, folks. I am seventeen, almost eighteen, and I've never been in love. Being a girl that I am; or rather, being the type of girl that I am (ie. my head's always in the cloud and I kind of live in the future), I always imagine what first love would be like.
First love would be the awkward touching of
the back of hands, until you were brave enough to catch love firmly between your fingers.
First love would be the weird first kiss,
when you don't quite know yet, how it should be done, or how you should place
your nose, your mouth, your tongue so that sparks fly and magic happens
whenever the lips touch.
First love would be the time when all the
love songs you've listened to, finally make sense to you.
First love would be the beating of passion
and the fluttering of romance inside of you, when all you could think of is
loving and being loved.
First love would be the sweetness in your
smile when you know that love is real, is alive, living and is tangible.
First love would be the opening of chests
of treasures, and of hearts; and the discovery of wonders and experiences that
you know will stick with you forever.
This video from last year, by Dr Martens, kind of summed up what first love would be like for me. And until the lovefairy grant me the first man of my life, I'll just continue on with my imagination, and patiently (or not) await the coming of that special day.
First love comes with first heartbreak, I guess. Not everyone is lucky enough to get it right their first time. I also imagine sometimes, what my first heartbreak would be like. And I can only imagine so much until I experienced it.
First heartbreak would be the shattering of
hearts, when you felt that a piece of you was gone, tore away from the core of
you.
First heartbreak would be sweetness turned
bitter, when each memory, each promise had turned into a stain, a hurt, and a
dagger stabbed into your heart.
First heartbreak would be the tears that
ran from your eyes as you listened to songs of other heartbreaks and you would
say to that voice singing, "I get you, finally. "
First heartbreak would be loneliness, when
you felt like there is no one to talk to, no one to listen, no one to hug and
cuddle, and no one to stand behind you, in front of you, stand by you.
First heartbreak would be the death of
something beautiful, the death of smiles, of giggles, of joy, and of the
magical sweetness of first love.
First heartbreak would be a sad revelation,
when you realized you've been a fool for falling in love the first place, when
you realized what you thought was forever, wasn't.
I don't know how accurate I am, nor if it really is
how my first love and heartbreak will feel like. What I know is, I will regret saying this someday, but I anticipate my first heartbreak as much as I anticipate my first love. I know some people out there is probably rolling their eyes at me and saying spitefully, "just you wait" and "oh no, you didn't". But to me, this rookie or even, this outsider in the 'love scene': heartbreaks, like love, is an experience. Heartbreaks meant new emotions, feelings, and thoughts. And I say, "one has not truly lived if one has not had one's heart broken" (I will totally regret this,and yes, I just quoted myself, sorry). As a person who writes (not yet a writer, but someday perhaps), I treasure these emotions, these sentiments, because it is these experiences that will enrich me and my imaginations. I know, and I hope I will still know
when heartbreak first come to visit, that no one is a fool for falling in
love. Being in love is a beautiful
thing, and so is being heartbroken.
Because it is the sorrow and the grief you felt that made the past love
real; and it is the shattered heart and bitter tears that made love all the
more beautiful.
