Letters Unsent | {Collateral Beauty entries}

A Letter to Love

To my dearest, Love.

You're very popular, you know? In every generation, your name is well-known. Are you proud of that? I think I would be.

You're pretty funny. Everyone thinks they know you so well, but when they're asked to describe you, they come up blank. I love how you can do that to people.

The first thought about you, "Love is the most amazing thing in this world". You're wonderful, that's for certain. But there are so many people who have been scorned in your name, so many people who beg to differ. Are you proud of that? I think I still would be.

(I know I'm strange.)

Some may say that you are everywhere, "Love is in the air", they'd say. But for some, it's just so difficult to find you. Honestly, I feel sorry for those kind of people; they don't realize what they have right in front of them. Lucky for me, I can find you written all over the faces of my family, shining in the eyes of my closest friends.

And while I know that I seem like a strange (and almost apathetic) girl, I was raised to be good; I really do hope that you'd be kind enough to show yourself to those who are desperate for you.

I don't exactly like what you do to some people around me (is that even your doing?). You make them go crazy (insane), they lose their minds because of you. And I know this isn't in a bad way. And although it's nice and fun to see them blush and try to hide a grin, they end up hurt in the end.

I suppose that's also their own fault. But still, you also had a big part in that. Thank you, though, for sparing me all that. Oh and, sorry if it seemed I was afraid of you.

I'm not really afraid, get that clear. Just a little wary; I often wonder if you're really worth all the pain. But despite all that, I'm only human. I still crave for you in that strange, romantic way.

But I don't want to waste myself just searching for you; the purest form of you, the truest form of you. I don't want to waste myself on illusions and delusions of you. I don't want to waste myself on trying to avoid the snares of fake copies of you, that I know I'm bound to fall for anyway. And that just brings us back to the million-dollar question,

Are you really worth it all?