Love to Death

After reflecting on uses of “love” and the feeling itself, a minuet realization has come to mind pertaining to the sentiment.

It often seems that those things which I could insert in the blank from the article below, are easily exhausted, almost trendy, thus contributing to the demeaning of the term. The things I deem to be in love with, really do appeal to me. I don’t mean to say that “love” isn’t applied to things that aren’t loved by any means but just that “well like” would typically better appropriate most stances. Assuming this, I dare to bargain that utilizing the word alone can cause thinking to be likewise geared.

I have often caught sight of something –for me it may be a pair of nike running shoes- and I claim to love them. After a while, because I “love” them so much, that (more honestly coined) liking loses rarity. It’s almost as if their so greatly appealing color scheme and exact structure becomes too perfect to the point of spoilage. Sometimes the shoe I would find very intriguing but not one that perfects my appeal and that I would thus not even think about buying, I end up really liking more, because it’s as if there’s that little bit of non-occupancy that they can only get just that little bit more better. It is a low goal with high potential.

Perhaps the common situation is that we hallucinate ourselves so to speak, thinking that if we really, really can like something, we can love it, and because love is so highly sought for its virtue, we wouldn’t mind making it easier and more likely to attain. It isn’t until we realize that the term love is much more exclusive than that and is to be handled with regard. It should be savored and treasured for sparse acclamation. As a result, we can enjoy things in their imperfection, because we are sinful people in an imperfect world. It may be more amazing than we might realize, that being the effect of the ill use of a word.