Love is.

Love. Love splits into two categories, parental and non-parental. Parental love is one that is subtle as the morning breeze in the hills. Purest. Non parental love is love between your girlfriends and boyfriends, your husband or your wife, your partner for life. It is first like a ocean tsunami, overflowing, making one feel extremely nervous, excited, finding it hard to talk. Further down it becomes a stream, being gentler and filled with little eddies (small whirlpools) along the way. Finally it probably dies down to a drop of water from a certain icicle somewhere up in the high mountains where the stream originated and snaked towards the ocean. Mountains are could, lonely, quiet places where it would be a nice place for solitude.

Idealist or Pragmatic. Idealist, eternal spring, cool weather and a nice house by a crystal clear lake surrounded by mountains. Pragmatic, eternal summer, hot humid weather, a tiny apartment in an urban jungle surrounded by towering concreate monoliths. Idealist, a family whereby children play in the nice green fields, where all worrys are put aside. Pragmatic, a family where children play in resin foamed floored playgrounds, school, and all the worries of life, jobs and carreers.

Maybe that is why I don't smile much anymore, because pragmatism robbed me of my life? But really ... sometimes we have to make little sacrifices. But then I ask myself, is the notion that happiness is the highest ideal the best? Actually, I truely know, it is more important to make someone else happy, my mother, my father, my friends ... my future, my future family, my future friends, my future colleagues.
We are but lovers of lost dimensions. Should I go against my true nature?