Confession of a Romantic

For some reason, there is one thing that is bothering me right now. I don't intend to sound cryptic or mysterious in this entry. I just want to write how I feel right now. And I would like anyone reading this to bear with me for I am truly not aware of why I am thinking of such thoughts. I've been pondering about love. A universal question for most. A fleeting ethereal feeling. A fallacy to many.

What is it?
How can I define it?
Is there any concrete criteria as to its nature?
How will I know if the one I like likes me back?

I really don't know. As much as I wish to know it, it doesn't reveal itself as accurately as I wish it to. Never felt more of a fool, a dumb, a stupid person. Its like the mind could find no other thought, and that any other thought is influenced by that one thought. Like in religion, where one ideally lifts up all one's actions and thoughts and being to God, I lift up all my deeds and ideas and experiences to him, who does not know, him, who I don't know whether he likes me back or not. There is more guarantee in the love of God but why do I seek him more than I do my Lord? I hate being enslaved to such a dilema and yet I can't find, at the moment any effective remedy to dispel what ails me now.

I wish he'd tell me straight out, whether he likes me or not. Such frustration is mind-numbing. Such wait is time-wasting. But all is still worth it, as a lesson learned. All is still worth it, because all is spent on him. I am pathetic at this point. I know.

And in the process of self-critisizing, I've begun to comprehend that the truest, purest and perhaps most accepted form of love is represented and could only be constituted upon matrimony. For you see, love involves a complete surrender of the self, unquestioned trust in lifting all that you are, emotionally, spiritually and physically into the hands of the one you are to wed. It is a total self-giving, an act of selflessness that some fail to understand or recognize while they agree with the use of two of the most grave words they may speak in their entire lives, "I do." It has nothing to do with company or wealth, but of service. It is the willingness to serve one another, to bear each other's burden, the willingness to give, without hope of ever receiving. It is no easy task and yet one, people have taken for granted, blinded by lust, materialism, anger, avarice; sins that confuse the true meaning and essence of the sacrament. And so to marry as to think of pleasure or personal dreams and goals are but a fallacy for these are merely rewards that may or may not be received upon completion of service, adn question be, can service, true service ever possibly find an end? Marriage, an vow dissolved only upon death, but still should love in its truest and purest sense remain in heart, unconditional service would undoubtly prevail.

Gloomy Sunday

This is the English translation of Rezso Seress' famous Hungarian Suicide Anthem, but despite its rather morbid lyrics, it is evident how hopeless in love the songwriter is. Perhaps this is what I feel, at the same time, perhaps not. Perhaps.. is like an if, a question that still cannot be completely comprehended until..

And yet I admit, that I have fancied myself singing this song quite often, for its haunting melody although at times may seem rather strange than the modern pop music everyone is accustomed to hearing, is captivating especially when you internalize the lyrics, its as if a blithe cloud has consumed your entire presence and your entire being is isolated from all the rest of the world, it feels like it taps into my "inner universe". But of course, this is a phase I yet need to overcome in my journey towards complete maturity and enlightenment, for at times I understand that life is beautiful, but ugly at the same time. Comprehensive and yet cryptic and mysterious. The unending fusion of oppositions existing in one.

G L O O M Y S U N D A Y
translation of : S a m M L e w i s

Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday

Gloomy is Sunday, with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad I know
Let them not weep let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream for in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you
Gloomy Sunday

Dreaming, I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, here
Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you
Gloomy Sunday