Happily Ever After

There's a crazy kinda love that I may never know. The rather-die-than-live-without-you kinda love.

I rolled my eyes as my friend gazed lovingly at a woman in a photograph--her boyfriend's mother. She made promises to herself and to the universe, of how she would take care of that stranger-woman because she loved her, because she loved her boyfriend.
Don't we all know that couple, the girl from that super wealthy family that eloped with a slumdog?

Oh of course, I allow for Bollywoodic influences. Still, there is an authenticity to this kind of passion that I can't understand.

I wonder what it's like to forget yourself in a love that's so senseless. And I wonder if it's just love, or something else? Because I love too! And its unfair to call mine a 'lesser love' if I don't move to Limpopo with you.

I wonder if it takes a special kind of person. Or are we all capable of this madness if only we had The Reason?

Nah, I don't crave it. And I would never, should never, call it romance. But I acknowledge that it is its own religion. They don't understand me, and I don't understand them: we both think the other is weaker.

I think its beautiful, this crazy kinda love that I'll never know. It's black, it's white, it's constant and it's refreshing.

And, if you told me you wanted to quit your job in LA to move in with the guy that broke your heart, got engaged to another woman, then broke up with her and, asked you back...I won't roll my eyes.