(PS: Picture taken by yours truly on the middle of the road around 3 years ago)
PPS: I did not want to talk about Bra Dystopia anymore…)
In the dreary mist of the morning due, I figure that the most dreaded 4 letter word has somehow become a luxury. A necessary luxury.
We love the idea of ‘Love’. We absolutely adore the fact that we will have somebody for the rest of our lives. We have somehow associated our minds with the thought that “Love is everlasting”. Well what if Love isn’t?
What if the pressure on Love is so much, that it crumbles under our expectations?
We place so much importance on the feeling of Love, that lack of the consistency of the mere ‘feeling’ leads us to break our relationships. Love is like wine, it tastes better with time but it does not guarantee long lasting intoxication. We are so drunk with the whole idea of falling in love and then being in love, that we feel guilty if we perceive something else. We feel judgmental about couples who aren’t in love anymore but choose to stay together. We feel nauseous when your friend comes to you and announces that she is bored of her long time partner. We feel so trapped in our own relationships sometimes that when the other person says, “I love you”, you feel almost compelled to say, “I love you too…” even if you don’t feel like you do. We all want to maintain a fairy tale, dancing with romance , making love on heart shaped beds, champagne oozing and rose petals falling on you from nowhere. We want to be the Prince of the fairytale sweeping our Princess off her feet. We want to be the Princess, being woken by a kiss from a handsome prince. We want to feel alive and wanted. We want to feel special and pampered. We want to feel treasured and romanticized with long letters, flowers, vacations and I do’s.
Does that constitute Love at all?