(no subject)
Is it the nature of humanity to take good things for granted and to wallow when they turn away from our ideal? I fail to see the happy medium. Is it like us to NEED the trouble and the drama to feel alive; to feel like our lives are exciting and that we, at least, are not the definition of stagnance. Because what, really, is more frightening in life- the condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter including their capacity for growth, functional activity, and continual change preceding death- than living the exception to that very rule? Is it then natural to want more, and panic when the exciting newness fades, as it eventually does, into something more comfortable, but something different nonetheless? It seems, then, that the concept of "monogamy" is ludricrous. Ludicrous, and yet we want so much to keep that one person for our own who knows us nearly better than we know ourselves. Heightened intelligence has made walking contradictions of us all.
Anyone having experienced butterflies, the adoration, and unquenchable interest of a budding relationship can attest that once along the way, after the relationship settled and stabilized, perhaps even digressed (as many do without a dating code to adhere to), they wondered "Is there someone out there who will love me the way i was loved in the beginning? Is there someone who will buy me flowers on a tuesday because they make me smile? Someone who knows that words hurt no matter what anyone says, and that sensitivity and the desire for respect do not diminish with time?" My question is this: Is there such a thing as undying passion, or does love either burn out or simmer down into cohabitation; adopting a certain side of the bed, learning to let the "little things" fly (when its the little things that really matter), and remaining "unavailable for plans" saturday nights- out of hope or habit- even though "saturday night date night" is a distant memory. Is that how life breaks down, under all the fluff? Is that really how love is? Or have we conditioned ourselves to want what we had in the beginning, what perhaps we took for granted, and accept the outcome instead of demanding our happy medium?
Anyone having experienced butterflies, the adoration, and unquenchable interest of a budding relationship can attest that once along the way, after the relationship settled and stabilized, perhaps even digressed (as many do without a dating code to adhere to), they wondered "Is there someone out there who will love me the way i was loved in the beginning? Is there someone who will buy me flowers on a tuesday because they make me smile? Someone who knows that words hurt no matter what anyone says, and that sensitivity and the desire for respect do not diminish with time?" My question is this: Is there such a thing as undying passion, or does love either burn out or simmer down into cohabitation; adopting a certain side of the bed, learning to let the "little things" fly (when its the little things that really matter), and remaining "unavailable for plans" saturday nights- out of hope or habit- even though "saturday night date night" is a distant memory. Is that how life breaks down, under all the fluff? Is that really how love is? Or have we conditioned ourselves to want what we had in the beginning, what perhaps we took for granted, and accept the outcome instead of demanding our happy medium?