I wish I had a good definition. For me it's hard to sum up in a sentence or two. I thought I knew true love, but then I realized I didn't. I guess it can mean different things to different people. I am absolutely no help right now. Sorry.

I would like to believe I'll have it. I hope so. Or at least something sort of close.

I forgot to mention I have a scorching case of herpes.

I don't care who you are, you fart in my face intentionally you're GONE.

It's lying awake at night when you're not near the one you love utterly consumed in thoughts of holding them, smelling them, touching them, and drifting off in to the darkness with them.

It's working long, hard, hours, at a desk, in a mindless maze of cubicles, while your mind is miles away, wrapped in a soft, warm, afterglow of the phonecall you had the night before

It's walking down the hall smiling to everyone one you see aching to hug each stranger just to give them a tiny sample of what you're feeling that day.

It's feeling as if the wind in your lungs has been knocked the fuck out of you each time the other person laughs, each time you hear them sigh, each time they admit to you that they have fallen for you.

It's hearing your name spoken , and for the first time, liking it.

It's a fork in the road that suddenly appears, and a direction you take without hesitation.

It's willing trade a lifetime of glory for just one night alone with them.

It's a willingness to discard this hardened shell of illusions and pretense and be vulnerable enough to cut my self on baby's breath.




I imagine.

i know wat love is but as for the defintion i'm unsure but i do know i'm very in love at the moment

I don't care who you are, you fart in my face intentionally you're GONE.

i know wat love is but as for the defintion i'm unsure but i do know i'm very in love at the moment

So far my experience of love (that between two lovers) has been like the one described by Carson McCullers in her “The Ballad of the Sad Cafe,” (1931).
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I think I've grown far too cynical for romantic love. Sure, certain stories (movies, books, etc.) can still make me all ooey gooey, but it's kinda like me and church/religion/etc.. I appreciate the romantic notion of it all, the traditions, the poetry and such, but I can't choke down that it's actually really "real".

Tell me about it. It was suggested by my teacher that i should begin my paper with the definition .. I however, find the dictionaries definition weak and then it occurs to me, maybe we all have added a whole lot of expectation to the literal meaning of the word.

Copy, save! I'll have you eatting those words one day.

So far my experience of love (that between two lovers) has been like the one described by Carson McCullers in her “The Ballad of the Sad Cafe,” (1931).



This is a rather unique concept of love, often quoted in lit. essays.

"...First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons--but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which has lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world--a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring--this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth

Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both violent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.

It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain..."




[Edited 3/31/08 18:33pm]

Me too.

Wow the Crazyness of the Org is astonishing. From off the wall unbelivable photos of individuals to people joking about their VD status. This is better than Mauvy Pauvich , Jerry Springer, or a Soap Opera. Bring On The Popcorn!


[Edited 3/31/08 18:13pm]