love is what i got.

this post was meant for valentines day, but alas i was too caught up in enjoying the day that i never did find the time, sorry about that. and for more bad news, the essay that you are about to read isn't a new one, for it is what  you would dub "an oldie but goodie." i wrote it last year in high school when my english class was asked to write about our definition of love. now that a year as gone by, i still stand by my definition, and maybe you'll agree with it too. 


"if you're a bird, i'm a bird."

Love. Known of but not known, a celebrity of sorts, everyone wants it but no one knows it, no one knows why they want it, what they want. But they find themselves longing for it anyways. I want love. Not angry, violent love. Certainly not jealous. None of that, “she was my first love, I will always care deeply for her, but I love you too, babe,” nonsense. I want a sundress and blazer sitting quietly on a park bench reading and watching the picnic-ers, dog walkers, and rollerbladers. A bicycle built for two on the boardwalk with sand in my shoes, sun on my face, death cab for cutie in my ears. An exchange of secrets along with mix tapes. Split of the newspaper over a milkshake with two straws. Corny knock-knock jokes, goofy sing-alongs, and Chinese fire drills at red lights. The drinking of straight black coffee under the pretense that we are grown-ups engaged in the discussion of ideas. Standing, hand-in-hand, in front of a piece of art at the museum, gawking and then sharing a smile, being struck instantaneously by the overwhelming knowledge that it was much like love, something spoken about at parties, meant to give the allusion of a philosopher, an authority, for everyone should smile and nod their heads in agreements, for they have no clue what you are talking about. And much like mouthwash, if it burns it must work, if an idea does not make sense, if it is not tangible, it must be a philosophy. Something worthy enough to agree with in hopes that you too will be seen as an intellectual giant. Swaying to and fro on the porch swing, sipping sun tea, mere guests of the orchestra that is birds, joggers, and VH1 top twenty countdown. Saturday afternoons spent at the library in hopes that the rain will hold off until after the paddle boating adventure.  I don’t know how this is to happen. but when I ponder all the many possibilities in the duration of the lovely class of mathematics, proof that the universe revolves on the laws of irony, I do believe that as he and I paint the story along with the walls, I will say, “and I do believe that I knew that it was you I wanted to be walking next to.”      

this is a link to my favorite love song. it will become your favorite too, i promise.