I hate love stories.
How they suspend reality into a misty blur of emotional exhilaration, dipped in sugarcoated contagious thoughts leaving the most intellectually acute melting into senseless abandon. How the most psychologically sound becomes irrationally affected by the slightest subtleties of the object of affection. How the emotionally stable frolic in wanton meanderings amidst myriad possibilities of a future written in the winds.
I hate love stories.
How it makes one wonder and blush in earnest hope of the intangible possibilities of ardor adulation. How the now recedes into a cacophony of possibilities against a future founded on promises and saccharine inspirations. How pragmatism is thrown haphazardly in the face of an emotional attachment against the harshness of a subculture’s competitive veracity.
I hate love stories.
How it makes one hope that love is a most achievable concept in an existence slowly devoured by responsibilities and bounded across the routinary definition of one’s comfort zones. How it elates the weary soul despite the apparent grimness of a cumbersome consciousness he inhabits. How it professes a contented happiness beyond security and sanity. How it encapsulates the yearnings of the flesh in a methodology transcending physiological machinations, bordering on the spiritual. Bridging the distance of two hearts beating in syncopation. Euphoric. Selfless. Unabashed.
I hate love stories.
How it succeeds beyond the grave and gross, the crass and catastrophic, the solitary and sporadic. How it is unbounded by the nuances of time, place and distance. How it is unencumbered by the necessities of money, commitment and compatibility. How it can move the worst into an epiphany beyond comprehension, and the indifferent into emphatic cooperation. How it can easily sublimate the socially inept and emotionally scarred into agreeable and tolerable. And even into amiable and optimistic.
I hate love stories.
How its graceful duality defies logic and experience. How its bittersweet seduction succumbs even the most perennially inauspicious, triumphant against the doubtful and jaded. It wields its dagger steadily, piercing even the most sullen hearts into ecstatic reincarnations. It moves without reason, yet the plot becomes its own mastery of meaning. Because possibility is its recurrent mantra. And this too shall come to you, despite lack of faith. Or passive yearnings not actualized. It’s a humanity served in a language undeniably bespoke by situations, yet will unfold tumultuous times into positivism. It holds its grip even in the coldest of hearts, that the frigidity of solace will soon make way for the rebirth of spring and a blossoming romance.
I hate love stories.
How they tell of victory over circumstance, and completion beyond shortcomings. How it makes even those seemingly devoid of affection giddy in anticipation for a most pleasant conclusion. How it creates a spectrum of scenarios yet will undoubtedly lead to the merging of hearts. How, in its anarchy of twisted storylines create a melody resoundingly quaint. Identifiable. Succinct. Absolute.
I hate love stories.
Because their unrealistic, preposterous at times, vaguely senseless, yet convincingly addictive. Because I can't reason my way around them, even when the script is legible from a mile away, or the plot blatantly apparent, or the characters porous to the point of frailty.
Because they envelope me in a warmth that awakens a dormant oscillation; blushing, hopeful and cheesy. Because they create a welcomed confusion that surprises the most jaded. Because they always leave me feverishly smiling through misty eyes. Silently giggling like a crushing schoolgirl, with a Cheshire cat grin plastered on my face.
Because despite my persistent refusal to watch them, they consistently, unequivocally, wholly and effectively render me weak in the knees.
Every. Single. Time.
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Photo Credit: Quinn Mists by J Michael Sullivan, 2003.See original image here.
14 redmarks:
i used to hate love stories =)
happy love stories are like fairytales. the former inspires us to believe that here is happy-ever-after while the latter gives us hope.
halika kwentuhan kita ng mga happy love stories hehe.
@MkSurf8 Ako din. Hehe. ;)
@colorblind Fairytales are those childhood, but not childish, stories that defy reason and logic, reality and enmity. They make you abandon reservations in the fervent belief that love, and good, will prevail. Always.
Love stories aren't always happy endings. Sometimes their happy beginnings, as well. Yet whether they are or aren't, the effect is still the same. We regain hope. Priceless, precious and powerful hope.
But when the love story is a fortunate one, you can bet the symptoms are exponentially more affective. And the translations are overwhelmingly indicative of this. Warm and fuzzy all over.
The exact reason why I hardly watch romance movies.
i'm sorry but i'm such a sucker for romance. *peace* :P
@ Galen I feel you bro.
@Maxwell5587 Do not apologize. Never apologize for the convictions of your heart. It defines your values in its truest, rawest form. Very few are left unjaded these days when the subculture we inhabit is replete with the flesh-mongers and conquistadores. You should consider yourself lucky. Peace din. :)
One day, I saw Before Sunset and I realized was not made of stone.
Then I saw Before Sunrise and I realized I could erupt in disgusting, giggly laughter.
@Victor Gregor I am a big fan of those two films, simply because they are not your typical romantic plots. In fact being a love story is partly contestable. It allows one a peek to the palpable possibility that loving is also letting pain into your heart. That consuming vulnerability that most would fold from. And conceding to fate worse, although oft inevitable. Sadly, I can't seem to find a copy of both. Thanks for stopping by. :)
"How it succeeds beyond the grave and gross, the crass and catastrophic, the solitary and sporadic."
True. :)
You're such a hopeless romantic. How cute. :)
And oh. You can download Before Sunrise and Before Sunset in Piratebay, I believe. And just for bragging rights, I have bootleg copies of both films. I just have to. :)
@Manech Why, thank you. I think helpless romantic fits me better though. Nice to see you saw through the sarcasm. Hehe. We are all romantic in varying degrees. Some are just more vocal about it.
Since you might be leaving soon, care to donate your copies to me? Pweeety pweeese? :)
There are many copies of both movies (and on sale, too) at Video City and Oddyssey stores. :)
@Victor Gregor Thanks for the tip. Will look into it. I rarely go to the mall these days.
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