[FONT=q_serif]I’d ask to be granted the impossible miracle that would violate the cosmic order so far as I know it. I would just wish for that thing called true love.[/FONT]
[FONT=q_serif]I’m sure it sounds silly. Yeah. Silly childish dreams can have a long shelf life when you’re a silly childish person who lives in solitude. It’s the fanciful pot of gold hiding at the end of the rainbow that I’m always chasing after. You’re right, it’s probably not there. But I had no choice in being born or being who I am or having my heart or having my wishes and having my dreams. So while I’m here I might as well run after it, even it’s just a mirage or a phantom from the land of make-believe. Nothing else better for someone like me to do.[/FONT]
[FONT=q_serif]Now I know the reality of mutual love may be familiar to the point of mundane and prosaic for so many of you out there, as in you who are not reading this stupid answer that will get easily buried under a mountain of other more interesting answers and may only be glanced at by a few pairs of browsing eyes. Some of you who are well acquainted with that thing called love, perhaps because of a relationship you had in the past, or a dozen relationships you’ve had, or for others maybe because of one in the present— in any case, you know what mutual love is. Been there done that, right. Overrated, right. Perhaps you have been screwed over by it and you’re sick of hearing about it. Or maybe you’ve had your fill of all that gushy sweet love fluff to the point of being cloyed by all its rich flavors and now you have moved on to the next thing or even well beyond that. Some of you might even take for granted the fact that waking up tomorrow next to someone you love is as sure a thing as the sun rising in the east. Some of you are probably quite grateful and rightfully so.[/FONT]
[FONT=q_serif]But there’s this fringe of faceless, subterranean losers who spend their existence in lonely obscurity who have never crossed paths with true love, never felt it firsthand, never found out what it’s like to be special to someone, who might conceive of love in the same way explorers once conceived of El Dorado or the Fountain of Youth. I am a lifelong member of this loner club and there is nothing in my mind more fantastical than the thought of being granted real love. So that’s what I’d wish for in a heartbeat, without hesitating.[/FONT]
[FONT=q_serif]Short of that miracle being rendered through a magical stone from heaven or a genie or a freakin shooting star or an act of God, the idea of true love for me remains like a sort of cryptid in my world. It’s like the Loch Ness Monster, the Yeti, Bigfoot, or Chupacabra. There are stories and legends told about it. A possible sighting here and there. Alleged photographic evidence. Sure, it’s possible that it actually exists, but it’s easier to accept the notion that it’s simply a hoax, an illusion, or a hapless pipe dream— for me at least.[/FONT]
[FONT=q_serif]I’m sure it sounds silly. Yeah. Silly childish dreams can have a long shelf life when you’re a silly childish person who lives in solitude. It’s the fanciful pot of gold hiding at the end of the rainbow that I’m always chasing after. You’re right, it’s probably not there. But I had no choice in being born or being who I am or having my heart or having my wishes and having my dreams. So while I’m here I might as well run after it, even it’s just a mirage or a phantom from the land of make-believe. Nothing else better for someone like me to do.[/FONT]
[FONT=q_serif]Now I know the reality of mutual love may be familiar to the point of mundane and prosaic for so many of you out there, as in you who are not reading this stupid answer that will get easily buried under a mountain of other more interesting answers and may only be glanced at by a few pairs of browsing eyes. Some of you who are well acquainted with that thing called love, perhaps because of a relationship you had in the past, or a dozen relationships you’ve had, or for others maybe because of one in the present— in any case, you know what mutual love is. Been there done that, right. Overrated, right. Perhaps you have been screwed over by it and you’re sick of hearing about it. Or maybe you’ve had your fill of all that gushy sweet love fluff to the point of being cloyed by all its rich flavors and now you have moved on to the next thing or even well beyond that. Some of you might even take for granted the fact that waking up tomorrow next to someone you love is as sure a thing as the sun rising in the east. Some of you are probably quite grateful and rightfully so.[/FONT]
[FONT=q_serif]But there’s this fringe of faceless, subterranean losers who spend their existence in lonely obscurity who have never crossed paths with true love, never felt it firsthand, never found out what it’s like to be special to someone, who might conceive of love in the same way explorers once conceived of El Dorado or the Fountain of Youth. I am a lifelong member of this loner club and there is nothing in my mind more fantastical than the thought of being granted real love. So that’s what I’d wish for in a heartbeat, without hesitating.[/FONT]
[FONT=q_serif]Short of that miracle being rendered through a magical stone from heaven or a genie or a freakin shooting star or an act of God, the idea of true love for me remains like a sort of cryptid in my world. It’s like the Loch Ness Monster, the Yeti, Bigfoot, or Chupacabra. There are stories and legends told about it. A possible sighting here and there. Alleged photographic evidence. Sure, it’s possible that it actually exists, but it’s easier to accept the notion that it’s simply a hoax, an illusion, or a hapless pipe dream— for me at least.[/FONT]
