What is love made of?

It's the stuff of poems and legends and stories, but what is it really MADE of? Then again, is it really made of some "thing"?

Is it made of stolen kisses in an empty lift? Is it those walks around the park? Is it the SMS conversations that last the whole day? Is it the movies watched together, the plays enjoyed, the concerts attended? Is the playlist that defined so much you couldn't say?

Is it hormones going wild? Ideas which never existed before but suddenly become important? Chemical reactions in the brain? Intangible feelings overly romanticized?

Is it two people tied together inexorably and completely? Is it lust and passion?

Know what I think?

It is made of all this and more.

But essentially, I think love is made of shared breakfasts and lunches and dinners. It is when you miss the other person for something as simple as food.

It's funny how every single time you think things are okay, something happens just to remind you that they aren't and never were. That you just thought they were okay and that was just the calm before the storm. And that your mind conveniently forgot that the storm was coming. That just because everything looked good and felt good, doesn't mean it actually was good.

Life has a way of reminding you that no matter how hard you try, no matter what you sacrifice, it eventually doesn't matter. Eventually, it is all worthless. Because your wishes and dreams and actions and pain and your very existence are just that.

Worthless.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

- William Ernest Henley

This poem has always given me goosebumps. Every time I read it. And recently I saw another interpretation of it.

http://zenpencils.com/comic/william-ernest-henley-invictus/

I love the way the poem goes so well with the art. So perfect. And it made me love the poem even more.

What gets me most about this poem is its simplicity. Simple words which communicate so much.

You crouch
And brace yourself
For the impact
Knowing fully well
That it is going to hurt
Very much.

And you close your eyes
Real tight
And you ball your fists

Waiting
Till the seconds fly by
Till the impact you know is coming

And then...
There is nothing.
You stand up
You're still on the train
And that wall you were supposed to crash into
Doesn't exist

Maybe it did at one point
But it disappeared when you got close

And you look forward
Still on the train
And now you can appreciate the journey even more
Because you know
How close you were to it ending.

Crash

Remember that train I was talking about?
The one that was going to crash into the concrete wall?
And how I wondered whether it made sense to get off or just enjoy the ride?

Well, I stuck on. Stayed on that speeding train, knowing the end was coming. I made myself enjoy the scenery rushing by my window, the cows, the fields, the rivers. And I made myself smile. I made myself forget that I was on a train that was going to crash, no matter what I did. And I held on, blinded myself while letting myself feel.

But now, I cannot close myself to the crash any longer. I can see the wall, you know. That huge concrete wall that the train was heading to? I can see it now. And it's getting harder to focus on the scenery and the rivers and the trees. It's getting harder to smile and say, "Woohoo what a ride!" I'm human after all, irrationally scared of endings of any sort. And that is one hard concrete wall, strong and solid. I know it'll hurt when the train crashes. But I can't really jump off, not now, not after I've stayed on for so long, through the tunnels and over the bridges. So I have to ride it through, till the end. And count the seconds down to the crash.

I only hope it doesn't ruin me. And that I have the strength to get on another train, for another journey, another crash.

I stare at the hourglass
Too mesmerized by the falling sand
To turn it over
And give us more time
As the seconds flow away
Lost forever,
My hands stay frozen

It's time to say goodbye
Time for the broken hearts
The broken promises
Time to wake up
To see that things were never meant to be

How easy it would be
To just break that glass
Free the sand to the winds
Throw caution and care away
Freeze the moment
Keep it all the same

Then again
The passing of time
Cannot be stopped

The grains of sand flow fast and strong
Counting down the seconds
Till the emptiness
Inside and out

What has been written will come to pass
What was decided at the beginning
Will spell the end

We are living in a state of false progress. We believe that we are the generation which can finally change the world. We believe that we think differently, know better, are evolved.

We live in a state of constant denial.

We shroud ourselves in hypocrisy and function in bubbles of safety. We believe that we aren't tied down by the archaic beliefs that bound our parents and grandparents. But we have made chains of our own. Chains of distrust, ignorance and indifference.

We pretend to know so much about everything while knowing absolutely nothing about anything. We talk in cliches and take pride in false promises. We defend our views to the heavens and shut ourselves to those of others. We come from different places and bring the prejudices we grew up with, holding on to them like talismans.

We blame everyone else for the mistakes we make, expect everyone else to pick up our slack. We believe that as rebels we are entitled to special treatment. We curse the system because everyone else is doing it.

We spread the same notions we should be changing, wallow in the filth we should be cleaning up.

We are a flawed generation. Lazy and inept.

We are not changing any worlds.