The subject I avoid to speak of is ‘love’. I always label it as an anchor that sinks a ship. It is difficult to speak of, for I am filled with dubiousness and uncertainties. I detested the idea of heartaches, hopelessness, attachments and all of love’s aftermath.
Evidently, I am full of uncertainties—anything is possible. Love is not just a commitment, love is a contract. Love: conditions that are like vines that bind you and your soul to a certain… very human being. Therefore, it is never eternal. How would you know that when a heart meets another heart—the moment the connection is made—it isn’t a star-crossed path? What if in that nanosecond, that connection is only a cosmic malfunction of two lives that are meant to be forever parallel?
Then the universe straightens out nicely again, and your heart is the only thing that is holding on.
It’s like squinting for happiness where there is none. The only solution is to know that it is not the place for happiness, that it is elsewhere, but love makes you hold onto that person anyway because of emotional attachments.
The key, I suppose, is to try to understand. All in all, do not dwell too deep, for you may not ever make it out.
Try to piece the puzzle of your heart together, meander once in a while, but always find a way back.