Do you realize that most of the population has no idea what love is?

[YellowRubberDuckie]

And it's so sad. People confuse lust with love and choose someone based on their looks instead of their soul. It's so sad. Has anyone else noticed this, or am I alone in this opinion?
Duckie

[swag]

1. You mean like . . .

[Poll_Blind]

2. You're not alone.

I guess I could squeeze something more eloquent out of my heart on the matter- but to be honest, how many would likely get it? Suffice to say, among 5 billion people there are some radical differences. I've tried to build myself around the different types of love (philos, eros, agape) and in doing so I have observed many forms of boredom are advertised as poetry.

No matter. I am not alone and neither are you. That makes two of us, I'll wager there are more.

-PB

[undergroundpanther]

3. Love??

love is proximity...
Read more....
http://www.unknownnews.net/a0125.html#kj21


So I have a game that I pretend, when I'm not allowed to pretend love, when no one else will pretend love with me. It's true I fall in love much more often than any one person is supposed to do. It's true that if I can be alone with any one person for an hour or two I can achieve falling in love with him or her. But this is desperate, and they won't believe it and they won't play it, my game of universal love, So I just go along, painting it.

For if they come again, I am all trembling. For when I see them again my eyes cry "Lover!" And they are all ashamed and embarrassed in front of me, for husbands have wives and wives have husbands already and they do not understand this thing I must do to them having already done it to myself, for them. They see me and they run from me. They run because in that moment their eyes acclaim me. In that moment my eyes gave myself to them, entered them, and in that moment their eyes were opened. and their eyes cried being open. And I painted this. Yes, and when I painted the husband the wife bought the painting, saying it was for her alone. And when I painted the wife, the husband came wearing such cold anger I could not paint him at all. And those who are single, they were terrified.

For each wants to think that I speak only to him personally, and each wants to think that I want to possess him personally and he only, and that the invitation in my eyes is for him personally, and not for everyone as much as it is for him. Each thinks that there is just ONE consummation of this love, that this love must bear it's union in a physical, sexual consummation, and that if this cannot take place, the love was a lie, and it was not true. And they resent me for it and they run from me because of it.

But what in the hell do people think Friendship IS, if it is not Love, if it is not the whole love, the complete love, the completely being in love, complete as with a lover.