True love does not exist.
Call me a skeptic, but right now, I think the concept of true love trivializes all the human experiences we’ve had and we’ll be having for the sake of cultural romanticism. Give thanks to our fairytales and romantic comedies, because for them, the notion that someone perfect for us exists somewhere out there persists. Perhaps love simply exists in a spectrum of colours, and that my romanticism was an over celebration of things that make myself felt good.
In reality, love is all about how much investment one puts in the relationship, how willing are the people involved to work together with their differences, how both are open and honest with their feelings and thoughts through communication. The other characters become supporting characters in the protagonists’ story, but reality does not revolve around a couple’s love story, it revolves around everyone and all of their stories in one big catastrophic merry-go-round.
Maybe we constantly yearn for perfection and wondrous moments of tenderness and romance to sweep us off our feet– for the person that is ideal and is the utter perfection in order to prevent us from being hurt or disappointed. Well, after all, most of our worlds are, built by expectations, which are not wrong to have, but are not a sturdy basis for structures that will go through fire. And when our expectations fail because they are based on fantasy and are without realistic attempts at reaching those goals and dreams, we get hurt, we fall, and we are broken. We forget that we will get hurt, we will fall, and we will break either way. With, or without love– with, or without any help. As for me? Mine was an example. Mine was just like the cliche saying goes: “some things happened along the way.”.
You see, the notion of true love implies that perfection is in the true love’s countenance, when in reality, love is really just good investment and cooperation– good communication.
So let me take a break from all of this– let me hate the concept of true love. Let me shortly mourn someone’s failure– someone’s inability to hold on. Because it was NOT about perfection. it was NOT about circumstances. But it was all about lack of maturity and reason in times of immaturity and unreasonable fears.
It wasn’t the love that was impure, it was the connection that was broken.