Those Eyes

It's strange.

Today during Lit, Ms Sharm asked us a question. What is love?
And 2.3 came up with a very clever answer..
Love is Blind. Love is David.

Haha.

Okay, you might not understand it if you're not in 2.3. Whatever.

I just remembered that when I saw, from the broadcast list of my friendster account, a name which had been raising much interest in 2.3 of late.

What seperates love, lust, and obsession?
And what difference would it make if you were in love, or if it were simply lust?
The obsession part is quite obvious.

She's obsessed.
Every particle which resides in her screams his name.
Her heart threatens to tear her skin
As she sees him walk by
Nonchalant, unknowing
Someone's observing him
From that prodigal strand hugging his neck
And the ones which fall softly on his forehead
To the depth in which his shirt is buried within
And the length of his right foot
She's watching.

Initially, I thought she was freaky. But then I read on, and every post in her blog had his name. And then I thought she was really freaky. However, the dominating thought was the question in my mind, "How did she come to be so obsessed?"

She thinks it's love. Though I might not be in the right position to judge, I think it's lust. He knows naught of her, and how could you love someone when you haven't even taken a moment to know and understand each other?

Her obsession tells her it's love. Just like how love blinds one to think that another loves her, when so many signs tell her otherwise. And how do we really know if we're in love? Most people hear it from movies and stories, but how do THEY know? Should you not be the one describing for yourself what you feel, and assess your own self if you make sense or not? 'Coz perhaps if it doesn't then maybe it's love.

Perhaps I pity her. She's made so much of a fool of herself by pursuing this so called "love" of hers, who felt nothing for her other than fright. But on the other hand, perhaps I admire her courage. For one who continued attempting what seemed the impossible because of what she thinks is love is perhaps admirable. I, myself, had something, but allowed it to fly off, for I had been so scared to ask. To be rejeced twice. No, I didn't want that.

Or maybe she's just too dim.

Love is blind. Love is David.