Love is a force to be reckoned with; one does not smother it, or burn it, or attempt at its destruction because it is a losing battle on the end of the challenger. To tempt the hand of fate with the harshness of love would be a worthy sacrifice as there is no such thing as a faulty time for love. Love wills what love wills, and the end of the discussion begins precisely at the very thought that love’s desire could be overcome.
Faulty love is not love, for love is faultless and if fault were to be found in the name of love, let it not be called love for the bane of love resides in fault. We, humanity, in all our generations, have forgone the meaning of love and yet we throw the word around like confetti, as if that confetti means us no harm. Confetti can turn into razorblades just as easily as hate can scar our hearts. Love does not mean us ill will, but as it coexists with the harshness of other realities, we find ourselves blaming that of which we saw beauty for causing such insufferable pain when in truth, it is the lack of that very love that is at fault. Love is faultless, it is painless, without jealousy, hate, or indifference. Love is love, just as any other feeling of emotion is as it may be.
Therefore, is there such a thing as a hopeless place for love? I believe not. Time may test its capability and seas may test the strength of the rope that tethers the boat to the dock but no matter how far the wind blows the boat away from the dock or how much strain the water places upon said ropes capability, even past the ropes breaking point, it will never let go. Once love is in for the long haul, it will never let go. Not lust, love. Lust is a poor excuse of love as no emotional connection is required for meaningless sex, and love is all about emotional connections, because for love to survive, the human heart has to first care. So for love, a place is never hopeless. What is to stop a tsunami, a tornado, or an earthquake? Nothing, and just like the elements, love is just as raw, it refuses to relent until there is nothing left for it to work for.
I have found love in many places, from biology labs to cell phone messages by strangers, but I have not found the love because if I had, they would have lasted; either that, or we were not ready quite yet. But those could hardly be considered hopeless places as teenage love barely qualifies and the only reason it ever found itself upon the charts solitarily points to the few couples that made it out together and spent the rest of their breathes as one. What a lucky soul those individuals are to forgo future tortures of the heart in the namesake of love. Regardless, love remains a two eyed figurine sleeping next to us beneath our sheets because we do not understand the meaning it holds. The simple fact is that love is nothing but love; one cannot take a smattering of emotions, mix them together like a balanced equation, and find love as the outcome because love comes as a primary color. Other emotions commit identity theft where it concerns love in the most traitorous of manners by writing it off as the big bad wolf come to blow down the house. Love has no fault, evil does not exist where love does; therefore, love has no hopeless place, it has the tenacity to force fate’s hands in whichever direction it deems. Sacrifice in the name of love could never be a more worthy cause, it is when love crumbles under jealousy and hate that the fight becomes fruitless, because there is no more love left to gain.
The Quill 