Dreams
March Thirteenth, Two Thousand Eleven.
Just now, I saw love.
No, not that 'pure, true love.' Not something an average person would call love. They were two kids, a boy and girl. She was turned around in her desk, he was leaning forwards in his. They were bickering, yelling. And right in the middle of her loud, rambling accusations, he kissed her. Seems like, 'oh, who couldn't call that love?' Or who could?
They were two stoners. That alone turns people away. They're not a couple. That does too. But why is it love? Because he didn't give a damn that she was pissed off, and she didn't either. Sure, their bickering continued, and they may never kiss again, but that was a moment of love. I saw it in their eyes.
No, not that 'pure, true love.' Not something an average person would call love. They were two kids, a boy and girl. She was turned around in her desk, he was leaning forwards in his. They were bickering, yelling. And right in the middle of her loud, rambling accusations, he kissed her. Seems like, 'oh, who couldn't call that love?' Or who could?
They were two stoners. That alone turns people away. They're not a couple. That does too. But why is it love? Because he didn't give a damn that she was pissed off, and she didn't either. Sure, their bickering continued, and they may never kiss again, but that was a moment of love. I saw it in their eyes.