Here I Go Again

I was reading my old posts today— the one where I wrote about Ashton and Demi’s break up, and the one where I discussed the evolution of our desires— and I realized that this situation I’m in right now is actually familiar territory. Count on me to choose the more complicated path when it comes to matters of the heart. That. Is. So. Me.

It’s tempting to psycho-analyze myself, but I won’t attempt to do that right now. For now, the only explanation I can muster is that we don’t really get to choose who we love. It just happens. You meet someone, fall for him, discover why he’s awesome, realize the complications, accept them as givens, and fall all over again. The heart wants what it wants— time zone, distance, language barriers, and a host of other complications notwithstanding. In fact, that’s the beauty of love: the uncertainty of whether it will work, the effort it takes to bend over backwards, and the challenge of overcoming the impossible.

But then again, maybe this is just me and my inexplicable desire for complications. After all, some people choose to take the path of least resistance. They meet someone from work, have lunch with them every day, go out on weekends, and before they know it, lapse into marital bliss and eternal boredom. I could’ve done that too, you know? But that wouldn’t be me at all. Because contrary to my claims that I always play it safe and that I’m risk averse, I’m quite the opposite. The truth is, I live for complications. Why? Because I want to prove that love conquers all.

Going back to this boy I like, I realise that the ending could only be one of two things: One, I could be wrong about this; Or two, this could be the greatest love story ever told. Right now, the logical part of me is saying the first scenario is more likely. But just for a shot at happiness and for the pure pleasure of thinking that the second scenario could happen, I let the illogical part of me prevail. And by my standards, if love can trump logic, there’s nothing more that it cannot do.