A feeling of love… again

It was not the universe in play, straying signs in her path regarding true love and soul mates. It was the flippant nature residing in her that made these decisions, Marisa was convinced of it. The spontaneous, impulsive side that everyone saw, and which she could not bear to change. She could count the boulevards that had led her to nowhere. The one that had gotten away, the one who had married her best friend, the one who let her go believing she loved someone else. The one who paid her no heed, the one who taught her lust without love, and the one who had given her his heart when she was too young to care.

She saw her friends who walked carefully through life, taking each decision after a great deal of thought, conservative to the core. They imagined themselves to have wrapped a security blanket all around their happiness, shielding it from irrationality, from life’s less pleasant surprises. As if being careful and calculated was going to save them from any kind of trouble that could befall them. 

She scorned these cautious people. She took pride in her spontaneity, in her approach to life. She had always been the one to fall swiftly, fastest to succumb to gravity’s call. And also quick to lose interest or to perceive things going wrong, she thought bitterly. She was the fearless one, who could dare go up to a guy and ask him out not knowing if he was even interested in her. She was the one who took risks, the one who had never cared about putting up social appearances, and the one who was not afraid to be different.

Marisa did not belong to the kind of people who think that the universe came into being for the sake of love, and that love was the only feeling worth living or dying for. She was far too young to think or preach that way. Nor was she one of the girls who wait around for love to strike; but maybe that was because it always did strike sooner than she expected. Her intuitions about people and their feelings were almost always right, and they had helped her well in life. She however lacked somewhat in judge of character and compatibility, and this was where her impulse would override any rare, wayward, lingering doubts of rationality and give in to the attraction that they both felt or perceived.

She wanted to stop the pain that possessed her every time she believed her heart to be broken. She hated the fact that she was sensitive to things like fragile hearts and treasured memories. More than anything else, she very much hated herself soon after a heartbreak, for allowing her errant thoughts to lean in the direction of someone new. But she couldn’t help herself. Her spirits had always been maintained at an unusually higher level than most people, and they helped her burns to heal faster.

Was she only to understand love stumbling eternally and through healing the wounds and broken bones? When would the time come, when she would finally stop blaming the non-existent omens and signs telling her once again, ‘he is the one’?

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