Hell hath no fury...

Twisted scorn, indifferent demeanor
Cruel words, intense fervour
I wait my turn with poisonous spew
Frustrated. As the calm sweeps anew

Puppy love forever

Young love is the best of its kind. Or is it the only one of its kind? Although I want to believe that love evolves over time and our definition of what we call love changes as we grow, innately, I do think that the innocence with which we approach our young romances is the purest of its kind.

The distance I have travelled to meet him, the way I let his smile take all my worries away, the fierceness with which I fought to spend time with him, willing to pay my dues with college work, professional life, family and friends.

It makes me wonder if it’s the age where we learn to mould ourselves that brings about that fire to accommodate people in our lives while never letting it occur to us that we’d be different if it were not for their presence. If we turn out the way we do because we have become adapted versions of who we would be if it weren’t for some indispensible people in our lives. And that’s maybe why, we never learn to let go, of young loves and of who they made us into. And now, we seek someone who we can love while always caring for our evolved selves first, frequently wondering if something about them might be worth changing for and just as frequently telling ourselves that, “That wouldn’t be ME”

So much for a strong identity, so much for defense mechanisms and so much for bidding goodbye to innocent, unadulterated, pure joy of falling head over heels in love. Yes, young love is the best of its kind... and I never want to know any other. I won’t pay the price called happiness to guard myself. I want to fall absolutely, completely, foolishly head-over-heels in love...

Heard this one recently -

Oh! To fall in love again! What if it doesn't work out? But then, WHAT if it does...?