St. Valentine's Day
I eavesdrop. I sit with a book, my laptop or magazine, something to seem occupied with, meanwhile I listen. To people on the phone, passing by or sitting near. I indulge shamelessly in these tidbits of other peoples’ existence.
A group of girls just walked by. One is complaining about a boy turning on the light early in the morning and waking her up. Despite her efforts to seem annoyed, she can’t fool me. She is smitten. Boyfriend or not, she is drunk on her feelings for him. This story is just an excuse to be able to say his name because it’s frustrating to hold it in when you are feeling so much. I wonder what she will feel, and hope the best for her, in six months from now when this new glow has faded.
It scares me but at the same time fills me with wonder of the human heart; how it evolves and changes. I cannot fully understand it but this one thing I know. We mold to our feelings; the mind can only hold us back so much. We are ascetically changed by how we feel. That is why this girl cannot fool me.
I wonder if it is at all possible to keep something like that alive. Passion withers so fast, disconnected from the vine. Nothing is permanent in the heart, nothing for certain. But once one storm has passed you, there is no way you can be capsized by another. Atleast, I'm hopeful in this.
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