A Post on Love

Some women, like my mom, does not believe in love. She only believes in the right and the wrong husband. Some women, like me, believe love and relationship are two different and even separate entities.

However, some women, like Margaret Atwood or Regina Spektor, believe in the absolute existence of love. These women are not naive – they are aware of the inflated, commercialized abuse of the concept of love. They know that love usually pains them. But they have the power to appreciate, recognize and respect the miraculous state of mind when love prevails, when both parties involved discover that not only do they have that rarity, but they also share it. Nine out of ten cases fail and being on both ends suck. Some of us will never be the one special case. But when that one successful model replicates itself, it makes this whole messy, intricate human reproductive strategy – with its flaws, heartbreaks, unrequited love, guilt and sexual jealousy – worthwhile.

“Then there’s the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It’s not love we don’t wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It’s a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go.”

Margaret Atwood, from Variations on the Word Love

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