There is a great problem with falling in love. You wake up every day certain you know why you exist. You wake up knowing the world is a kinder, gentler place that is more perfectly beautiful than reality should yield to. You wake up knowing the sun shines for a reason and you are just silly enough to believe it must be for you… The plural you; the you that is two individuals yet one partnership– not the singular you.
There is a great problem with falling in love. You inch out on a limb convinced that it will be strong enough because that limb is in fact the strength of your partnership. You lose your breath from a simple smile across the room. It is sun rise on the fullest joy in life and for one of you, it will be there past sunset.
There is a great problem with falling in love. It’s unbearable. It’s un-bury-able. It means that years later when a handsome young man brings me flowers and holds me til early hours in the morning, I still think of my love. I am awfully young to live the rest of my years alone. I could do this literally or simply by going falsely through the motions with a handsome kind man who I want to care for. Really, I want to. I do. It’s just there is no way to compare. There is a great problem with falling in love.