A Vintage American Love Story

The days of rosy petaled, swooning love have casually taken a back seat. It seems to me that the ideal philosophy and true identity of “love” has lost its way among quick fixes and sly tongues. The only matter of truth in this realm is that it is here for a second and sure to be gone the next. Suffice it to say that I am overtly sick of being sick. I am weary of being nauseated by the culture of my peers and their countless attempts to self satisfy…I lay in weeping at the thought of my own attempts.. I am convinced that life should come with a warning sign that says “Warning: Mischief at Play”. This should be a caution pre-written into the heartbeat of the newborn. How else can we shadow the hearts of the innocent blindly straying in to the battlefield of commitment? Love…is…war.

But it hasn’t always been this way, right? Please oblige to appease me in my attempt to have some form of reconciliation; to have some grasp of hope to hold on to. Wasn’t there a time when your words meant exactly what you said? When one never felt the need to worry about the validity of words spoken? I have to believe that there is something…someone out there who is just as committed to commitment as my heart. It simply baffles my mind trying to wrap around this new monster named “love”. This is no longer a ground of dying to yourself but rather one that forces us to kill just to stay alive. My world, my reality screams at me to slaughter or be slaughtered. Why do you think that my heart has so many scars? There have been occasions where my sword struck the first and fatal blow…Believe me when I say that my mind has been ravaged to and fro with the hauntings of the slaughtered lambs. My only excuse is to point at the ones around me and hope for understanding.

Despite my failures and occasional doubts, I am convinced that there is a reality existing that many long for but so few find. One where a war is being fought but not against one another. The blood spilled is not of our own but against the real enemy…Selfishness…Lying…Cheating. I believe there is a war worth fighting in…I believe that there is someone’s heart worth dying for. Upon finding such a soul I may find myself at a loss. It may take a moment for my eyes to adjust…For my heart to start beating again…But when it does, I will fight the hardest I have ever. I will give my life willingly…Not at the hands of deceit but rather at the hands of self sacrifice. I will not bow to this world anymore. I will not play your games. I will not quit searching.

This picture, this hope of true love, is worth bleeding for.

Darling, I will bleed out if I must.

One Reply to “A Vintage American Love Story”

Leave a Confession

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s