Pains of love be greater far, than all other pleasures are.
Ah, to be in love. It is far too complex to comprehend why, after loves initial bewitchment of the lovestruck victimit casts on it a spell of total submission to the joys and pains it brings. To be hopelessly and helplessly in love is a one-of-a-kind experience, an oxymoron of all sorts, for it is bitter as it is sweet, and it is lethal as it is invigorating. You see, the irony of it all is this: to fall in love with someone is to give that chosen one the power to make you happy, and also the power to hurt you the most. It is a double-edged sword, for as much as love can open you up and set you free, it could also cut your throat and stab you to death.
The bits and pieces of broken hearts and the tears shed over love are so many that Cupid should be out of business by now. Hurt within, and out of love is a tragic predicament that you should avoid at all costs as much as you can. It is not an easy task though, because love, in its pure beauty and charm, is simply irresistible. If you're in its good favor, and it is for you, it will take you to a roller coaster ride of being in a heaven to another if it is not, then your roller coaster straps will just snap and youd fall, injuring yourself, bumping and slamming in the tracks, and eventually land on the hard, cold, sharp-rocks-packed ground. Oh how I wish it is an exaggeration, a convoluted use of hyperbole (my English teachers would be sooo proud of me), but it's not.
When love hurts, it hurts - A LOT. It comes in stages: first, denial - initially you refuse to believe everything that has happened and you go on stepping backwards, hoping to be propped up by your protective cushion of the wonderful past; then, incredulity - after the reality of events has whacked your head a million times, you ask the age-old question but how could it be? we love each other; and last, pain - just pure, blinding, bitter as hell pain. And oh, pangs of guilt, anger, and occasional moments of temporary insanity add to the excitement of things. This (loves poking, stabbing, hurting-in-stages action) goes not only for earth crushing break-ups, but also for those petty fights that couples have caused by annoyingly weird, irritating pet peeves that blow up right into their faces, making them think what the hell did I get myself into?!
Then why, oh why, do people go gaga over love? If tales of heartaches are countless and pieces of shattered hearts are strewn all over the world, why long for love, hopefully wait for it, desperately search for it, and stubbornly fight for it?
That, my friend, is love's complex magic.
Because for every tear that is shed over it, a smile is waiting; and for every morsel of a shattered heart, a healing spirit is invoked. I read from somewhere that time does not heal all wounds, love does. And its true. Love awakens the white lighter in each person; and every blow, every stab, every shooting, blinding pain is designed to transform itself to a chi of strength, a jolt of confidence, and overwhelming happiness someday. It is a worn-out clich, I know, but hey it still works- love, and all the joys and especially the pains that it brings, makes you a stronger and better person.
To live is to love. To love is to hurt. To hurt is to live.
Disclaimer: This was posted two years ago in my Friendster blog. The "L" word seems to be creeping back into my system without my knowledge.