Lily's Confessions- 4

Chapter - 4
Love,love, love, where do I start?

I loved being in love. No, I love being in love. I fell in love with eye contacts and smiles the moment I heard stories of long-lost loves. The ones where they promised to come back but wasn't heard of after, lost in time and wars.The ones where they confessed to each other only through eyes and hesitated to attend a get together party 23 years later being another's spouse. The ones that got lost in letters,in diaries, in terrible sights and in their smiles when they hear the word 'love'. 

I love words. I love how I'd have to pause in between love stories and giggle. I remember finishing 'The God of Small things' and thinking how much Velutha loved Ammu and the most beautiful part is she knew. I remember praying for Cecilia and Robbie to reunite halfway through the book 'Atonement'. I love characters even though they are the writer's imaginations. The writers are strange creatures, they have the immense ability to unite lovers, but when they drop a tragedy or two, I can't help thinking they might be telling their story. A plunge into reality, a deviation from imagination,a way of letting their loved ones know they still write about them. 

I love listening to how people found their love. Some at the perfect time, some a little too late, some who settled, some who realised they were total strangers. I love looking into their eyes to know if it's real, to know if in between the squeals and smile, they think they have found it too, found love. But I do wonder who was I to determine the extent of their love? But we all just know,right? We all know what is love and how we feel.

'I drown in love, so deep and forlorn,
Screaming and crying, a muffled cry for you,
The water seems so cold,
And I can't help but wonder,
As I write about you,
In the few pages of my diary
That I'll forget you soon.
I will forget you.'

A name, a sign, a song, a 'you', a touch, a word, a smile, everything that reminds you that you can love. I can't help but wonder that is all we are in for sometimes. A feeling that we had a forlorn attempt at love, that we tried, that we are capable of loving someone. That we have a story of our own. One that will break our heart each time it hits the air, one that will finally help you understand why they smile at the word 'love'. 

I loved being in love.



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