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Yeah, it's yours truly and it's about 10 o'clock, the Super Bowl is over (go Steelers!), and I'm sitting in front of my computer monitor doing the usual: watching Shaman King, downloading music, and reading fanfiction. Typical night, eh? Well, I was reading a Ren x Horo fic when this paragraph sparks the cogs in my imagination - well, more like memory - and just happens to remind me of a few people who always seem to be rambling on about the theory and concept of LOVE. Read it, betches! =]
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Love hurts.

A phrase I’m sure everyone has heard sometime or another in the span of their lives, however long or short that span might be.

It is a phrase that is wrought with meaning, if you take the time to dig deep and uncover the truth within these simple words.

It was created by those of us who have suffered great pain in their lives caused by either loving someone and losing them, or being lost yourself, whether figuratively, spiritually, or, in all possible meanings of the word, physically.

Love.

What is it to love?

By asking different people you will get different answers. Some say that love is so important it is akin to oxygen. The need for it is so dire that people will do insane things to assure themselves of this pleasure in life. That going a life without it is simply, in a word, hell.

Then again, there is a flip side to every coin, and this is no exception. There are those of us who would argue the point that love is trivial. These thoughts can be backed by scientific proof. After all, is it not possible to bring forth a child no matter your state of mind, or in our case, heart, about a person. The fact that you love someone is simply not a factor to some people. It is a convenience, a privilege. Unfortunately, it is a privilege that some in this world cannot afford to have.

Until several months ago I considered myself to be one of those people, sitting amongst the ranks of those who do not believe in love. I was happy, at least I thought I was... until I met him.

He turned my world upside down right from the start, barging into my world like the crude, brash person he was. I immediately disliked him for it. For his ability to wear his emotions right out on his sleeve, when I was always taught that it was a disgrace to do so. I hated everything about him, he and his ways were so alien to me.

To understand our relationship, you must note the fact that he is... immature, loud, obnoxious, and childish, everything I am not, everything I wish I could be. As these thoughts run though my slowly dimming mind, it now seems to be painfully obvious why I hated him. I was jealous. I still am. I always will be. The fact that I have most come to terms with is that he saved me. Not in a physical sense, but mentally, he has taught me so much in so short a time.

I am quiet, reserved, and extremely arrogant at times. I was ripped away from my childhood at the early age of four. I was to begin my training, for what, I did not know, but I knew it was important. Any of my bad habits were quickly extinguished by the iron fist of my father and the disappointed, yet scornful gaze of my mother.