Live Ardently In Everyway Possible.

i'm fully aware of how love plays into everyone's lives but i'm getting more and more certain that love, as we 'know' it, no longer exists. maybe it's the amount of books i've read, how i expect someone to love me with their whole soul and being. how i still hope plato was right, that soulmates were split into two beings because zeus was too scared of our power. the red string of fate attaching the since lost souls, just to guarantee we have a chance of finding each other. but time has passed and the strings are tangled and fragile and ripping apart from age and pulling from both sides. we expect the idealized love that only few managed in history, the kind of love jay and daisy or estella and pip or mercutio and benvolio had. love is no longer that. we are but meaningless bodies running around the world, discovering passions and hobbies and immersing ourselves in it, our fingertips ghosting on the things we adore the most and try to make the most of. some of us still do hated things just for the stupid currency they need to make rent and get some food. we live in a rushed world full of hushed people who have no time to stop and fall in love with life and death and all in between. how can our idealized love exist in such a world? 'love' is supposed to be special. unique. something you say when you know you mean it, not when people tell you to say it back. love is supposed to be sacred. a word barely ever used, unless it is towards/about a person you truly do. it's not for a friend you made a week ago, a person you've been dating for a few weeks, it's not for the shag you and another person had and it was good. it's for that moment when it all clicks and falls into place and the sun and the stars coexist in perfect harmony. maybe love isn't dead, maybe it's just the people in this world. perhaps it's me. i might just need to realise that we aren't meant to love and our time for finding each other has long passed. the red strings tangled into a tight knot and falling apart. we fall in love with the dead and lost instead, with ink printed into yellow pages and coffee and cigarettes. we destroy ourselves little by little, in hope of something that no longer exists. somewhere, in this hurtful world, aphrodite weeps for all the hearts that ache, in search of a soul long lost.

Don’t worry if it didn’t work out, your soul will only attach to the right one.