I have died every day waiting for you
To all the Hopeless Romantics:
I am among you. I give my love freely, just to feel it... that feeling that words make hollow. It can't be captured on paper. The realization that sparks their eyes to life, as if they've been dead until this moment. When they stop. Stop thinking, stop breathing. The very breath in their lungs is your love, nothing more is keeping them alive in that moment. When their touch is softer because they feel nothing is real, the dream may disappear if they make sudden movements. Words escape them, but their lips move in vain. They know nothing they say will matter. It's felt rather than said. That moment. We hopeless romantics live for these moments. Nothing else matters but the love we feel for them and when we feel its reflection. We are dreamers. Our lives are painted on canvases with only the most beautiful strokes. Our religion is altruism.
And when it happens, as it always does, when we realize the inevitable... that everything ends... we are broken. We don't comprehend. We are dreamers, and dreams are beautiful, but they fade away. Our pain is felt more deeply than death itself, for, with our love, we have transcended death, and when it ends, we are nothingness. We are shards of glass scattered on the ground, still, in vain, believing our reflection is the stars.
Why give so openly, then, when we know the inevitable is coming? Do you live despite knowing death awaits you? Yes. And we lovers love as if it is endless. Nothing else makes sense. Yes, the pain may kill us, but, in the end, I will use my last breath to say, "It was worth it."
Here is my favorite passage from my favorite book, The Alchemist, describing a boy who has just seen a woman and has fallen in love. It's very beautiful:
“It was the pure Language of the World. It required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. He was more certain of it than of anything in the world. He had been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before becoming committed. But maybe people who felt that way had never learned the universal language. Because, when you know that language, it's easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it's in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one's dreams would have no meaning.”
I am among you. I give my love freely, just to feel it... that feeling that words make hollow. It can't be captured on paper. The realization that sparks their eyes to life, as if they've been dead until this moment. When they stop. Stop thinking, stop breathing. The very breath in their lungs is your love, nothing more is keeping them alive in that moment. When their touch is softer because they feel nothing is real, the dream may disappear if they make sudden movements. Words escape them, but their lips move in vain. They know nothing they say will matter. It's felt rather than said. That moment. We hopeless romantics live for these moments. Nothing else matters but the love we feel for them and when we feel its reflection. We are dreamers. Our lives are painted on canvases with only the most beautiful strokes. Our religion is altruism.
And when it happens, as it always does, when we realize the inevitable... that everything ends... we are broken. We don't comprehend. We are dreamers, and dreams are beautiful, but they fade away. Our pain is felt more deeply than death itself, for, with our love, we have transcended death, and when it ends, we are nothingness. We are shards of glass scattered on the ground, still, in vain, believing our reflection is the stars.
Why give so openly, then, when we know the inevitable is coming? Do you live despite knowing death awaits you? Yes. And we lovers love as if it is endless. Nothing else makes sense. Yes, the pain may kill us, but, in the end, I will use my last breath to say, "It was worth it."
Here is my favorite passage from my favorite book, The Alchemist, describing a boy who has just seen a woman and has fallen in love. It's very beautiful:
“It was the pure Language of the World. It required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. He was more certain of it than of anything in the world. He had been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before becoming committed. But maybe people who felt that way had never learned the universal language. Because, when you know that language, it's easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it's in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one's dreams would have no meaning.”