(it might be about nothing more than fiction and feelings)
Maybe real love doesn't exist. Maybe we're all trying to act as if we love, as if we live, as if we do. We do (I do). But what does it actually mean?
Last night, I saw this movie about - I'd love to say love, but it was more about intimate affairs, endless intriges and bad behaviour. Broken marriages and reckless, romantic gestures. It made me think - to what does it all lead? Are we meant to be together, or is love just a fancy fairytale?
Actually, I know the answer. Love has got nothing to do with biology. It's about facts, frameworks and fragments of a future. A future together.
Of course the moment counts, it counts for all, but these days we might be looking for something more steady, something related to security, safety and strength. Or that's what I'm looking for, at least. I admit: I am. I do.
Love is more than a sequel of stories, a mindset of moments. It has to be thoughtful and true, but also shameless and pure. It has to make you feel safe and warm, and above all, forever.
At least that's what I think it should be. Why else do all the effort?