..a wish that hides in the heart,
 and nobody knows it but  you.
Love is blinding.
 An eternity in a single moment.
A religion worth dying for..."
~*~
(Billy Bob Thorton, Bandits)

"Once I thought my innocence was gone
Now I know that happiness goes on
That's where you found me
When you put your arms around me
I haven't been there for the longest time...

... I want you so bad
I think you ought to know that
I intend to hold you for the longest time"

It rained letters today.

Old dusty letters that have been efficiently packed hidden and stacked from any possible prying eyes. I guess I'm really good at hiding things because I even forgot about them.

I was looking for the pair of my black velvet boots and I thought I stashed it somewhere behind all the other things I cannot remember anymore. You see, on the top self of my cabinet, there are all these plastic bags packed to maximum straining capacity and they've been there so long and there are so much of them I can no longer remember what I've stuffed inside them. I am a self confessed pack-rat. Guilty to the insides of my every bone.

What else would a sentimental love fool to do when she discovers old letters but of course, fall on her knees and eagerly read them all. My sister walked in on me while I was trying to get my hands on to all of them and read them at the same time and she said I looked like I was some obessed tomb raider who've just discovered the core of the answers to ever mystery in life.

They were all love letters. Both from him and from myself. The ones he wrote, they echoed a distant life I once lived. The letters I wrote, the ones I've kept unsent, left me with aching familiarity of how I once loved and lost.

I wish I could say that I don't love him anymore because I still do. I don't love him as I used to and I guess, in a way, I don't love him anymore at all. I still however, love the memory of him. I believe that when you truly loved someone, even after the relationship's ended, one cannot just instantly rid of the emotion like as if it is a light switch one could just flicker on an off in a whim.

When you give your heart to someone, you cannot really take it back. What you can do is forge a new love from the shadow of the lost one. Love is enough for all and cannot be depleted. But that doesn't stop the wrecking havoc of a heartache that follows after a break-up.

I don't know why I kept the letters. Reading them relived the emotions that were. I felt vulnerable and sensitive, naked to every bitter attacks of insecurity and questions that never were answered.

Nevertheless, the incident also gave me the chance to appreciate more the blessing of him, who gave me his all and still is giving more. With his patience, understanding and loyalty, I am never left wanting.

He makes me feel like I am the world to him. He is my personal eternal sunshine and I am constantly wrapped secure in his love and nothing just compares. He loves me to the point of diminishing insecurities and sultry breathlessness.

La vie en rose!

Is it wrong to dream for a love that would hold you when you own spirit should decide to abandon your soul? Is it wrong to hope for the blissful surrender to that emotion so strong, it leaves you breathless and at the same time longing for more? Is it wrong to believe in love that's pure and selfless, one so steadfast and committed it sees your flaws to its utter disgusting form yet is still willing to embrace you to the zeal of a heart-beat? Is it wrong to long for that someone who will hold your hand with as much passion and ardor when your hands were still perfect and smooth as jades, soft and graceful as the petals of the lotus flower until they become twisted, trembling, wrinkled and gnarled as grotesque knobs of old age? Is it wrong to wish for a heart that could see you in the light where you truly shine and not your stains that nails your guilt on an eternal plaque, stating you are a hopeless child of sin? Is it wrong to yearn for the breath of heaven to caress your trite and despairing flesh, to kiss your  stray and trodden senses, to refresh your dried and parched up emotions? Is it wrong to cling to the sweet glorious promise that there is somebody for everyone?

Is it wrong? Is it a sin? Is it foolishness? Is it madness? Is it profligacy? Is it idiocy? Is it cold-blooded stupidity? We all must be fools, then.

Such foolishness it is to desperately grope and grasp for that sweet soothing balm of faith after being drowned in the nightmare of reality. Such stubborn foolishness it is to keep on  reaching for that pair of arms to hold you in night's sheerest depth. Such insanity it is to turn your ears to that melody that fiddles all wellness and sublimity in your heart's furnace. Such madness it is to believe that there is an angel with a crippled wing looking for you to make him/her whole so you could both soar up to the timeless ecstasy of amity and love. Such stupidity it is to waste figments of profound imagery fashioning a burning desire to satisfy that intrinsic carnal and spiritual hunger that oftentimes knocks us in reeling daze and staggering amazement. Such doomed folly it is to offer perpetual prayers along the chain of breaths that caress your life to have possession of that lustrous, fluttering butterfly kisses, enthralling yet chaste. Such astounding madness it is to fantasize of walking forever in fields of carnations and getting soaked under a shower of sunflowers and sweet smelling roses.

Should I bow my head in shame because I'm forever shackled to such senseless madness and pointless longing? Should I offer a requiem for love night after hopeless night? Should I cast down my banner of faith and burn it to ashes and trample on my every dream? Should I kill every arrow of delight that would sear my soul every time I'd inhale the sweet intoxicating scent of flowers? Should I cower back in the shadow every time warm blessed sunshine would touch my ashen being and forever rot in the dampness and the nipping cold fangs of loneliness?

I'd give up countless of eternal freedom to be bound and shackled to the reckless madness. I'd give up life to forever float in the stream of dreams where I'd be truly happy and be plunged in perfect sublime. I'd give up every substantial tangible possession and superb indifferent reason I have to be forever lying on my back on a field of grass, tracing stars under the cool twilight of the velvet heavens. I'd give up my existence than give up these dreams.

LOVE is a decision.

It is also a VERB.

Falling in love is a lie (where true love is concerned, anyway). When one falls in love, that also means that one is bound to fall out of love. Where is the commitment there, then? Love don't "just happen". Loving someone is a conscious decision. A decision is made and so there is the commitment. There is an effort. There is value.

If love just pops out from nowhere like mushrooms do after a storm, where would that leave you? Nothing was done, no energy was used up, it's free...then what's it's value? After the first sight of a road block, the basic instinct for you would be to bail out. I mean, why would anyone stick and risk one's own neck for something one didn't even lifted a finger for to happen?

The term falling in love, I think, is confused with attraction.

I kept on thinking about it and I realized that I wound never want to end up with somebody who just "fell in love" with me. I mean, seriously, sure, he loves me now, but what about tomorrow or the day after next? What if one morning he wakes up  only to "realize" that just as easily, he now "fell out of love" from me? Wouldn't that be awful?

What I want is someone who decided to love me through and through, along with all my stupidities and imperfections. Somebody who made a conscious decision to love me while being aware that all my "annoying days" that he's witnessed maybe still just not the worst yet. Yet he still preferred to love me, anyway.

It may not sound so romantic like they way they put it in the movies but yes, true love is a DECISION.