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Nov. 3rd, 2003 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
htothehThere needs to be another word for love. Maybe I'm just cynical, but I refuse to believe that the percentage of highschoolers who are in Love is as high as all that. We're just too young. Maybe I'm wrong. After all, I have little to no experience in the area.
It's one of those things that's all-pervasive in our society. Almost every song on the radio is about love, or could be about love with very little stretching, and lots of them are really, really sappy. Or creepy--The Police could pull off "every breath you take, every move you make, I'll be watching you." Clay Aiken just... can't. But I digress. If it's possible to digress when one doesn't really have a topic to begin with.
Anyway.
I hear older-type people complaining occasionally about expectations of relationships. They say that it's not easy; being in love doesn't make the other person perfect, and certainly not any easier to deal with. It means that you have two people to keep happy instead of just one. It makes a lot of sense, does every time I hear it. But that doesn't mean that it sinks any further in. I'm sixteen. I'm a junior in high school. I think with my hormones, which can occasionally be mistaken for thinking with my heart. I want to be in love with someone who's in love with me. But which meaning of the word love? Right now, I don't know if I'm capable of what I think the real one is--the kind of love that keeps people together for fifty years of marriage that average out happy, that lasts through any number of arguments and fights because you care enough about the other person to want to make it work. My life is still about me. I don't know if I'm ready for a serious sort of us.
So maybe I'm projecting. Maybe I think that because I can't see myself being that attached to anyone, no one else is really capable of caring that much, and if they are, they're just fooling themselves. Maybe some people at Raleigh Charter really have found the person they're staying with forever. I'm cynical enough to doubt it, and enough a romantic to want to whack the cynical part of my brain over the top part (would part of a brain have a head?) and stick it in the back of a closet somewhere, preferably in China. My cynic persists, though; apparently it has an extremely thick skull.
This meandering brought to you by enforced proximity to a Certain Andrew who I find to be very irritating. Especially his rather condescending attitude towards love. Hence the topic of the meandering.
I swear I'll have a new template up soon.
It's one of those things that's all-pervasive in our society. Almost every song on the radio is about love, or could be about love with very little stretching, and lots of them are really, really sappy. Or creepy--The Police could pull off "every breath you take, every move you make, I'll be watching you." Clay Aiken just... can't. But I digress. If it's possible to digress when one doesn't really have a topic to begin with.
Anyway.
I hear older-type people complaining occasionally about expectations of relationships. They say that it's not easy; being in love doesn't make the other person perfect, and certainly not any easier to deal with. It means that you have two people to keep happy instead of just one. It makes a lot of sense, does every time I hear it. But that doesn't mean that it sinks any further in. I'm sixteen. I'm a junior in high school. I think with my hormones, which can occasionally be mistaken for thinking with my heart. I want to be in love with someone who's in love with me. But which meaning of the word love? Right now, I don't know if I'm capable of what I think the real one is--the kind of love that keeps people together for fifty years of marriage that average out happy, that lasts through any number of arguments and fights because you care enough about the other person to want to make it work. My life is still about me. I don't know if I'm ready for a serious sort of us.
So maybe I'm projecting. Maybe I think that because I can't see myself being that attached to anyone, no one else is really capable of caring that much, and if they are, they're just fooling themselves. Maybe some people at Raleigh Charter really have found the person they're staying with forever. I'm cynical enough to doubt it, and enough a romantic to want to whack the cynical part of my brain over the top part (would part of a brain have a head?) and stick it in the back of a closet somewhere, preferably in China. My cynic persists, though; apparently it has an extremely thick skull.
This meandering brought to you by enforced proximity to a Certain Andrew who I find to be very irritating. Especially his rather condescending attitude towards love. Hence the topic of the meandering.
I swear I'll have a new template up soon.
