So YOu Dont Know What YOuve Got Til Its Gone Right?

Sometimes we come across fabulous people, we know right then and there, that something is fabulous , but you are in one place, and they are in another. And when they are in the place you are, YOUVE MOVED TO NSW.

Why do particular people touch us how they do? Why do some people touch us differently to how other people touch us? Why is it that what is fabulous with one person, is not fabulous with a different person? Why do we keep looking for all the good parts of each person we meet blended into one single person who we can love for ever and ever. Amen??? Why are we stupid enough to believe thats even possible?

Im a cynic about love at the best of times. I have my own version of love. And my own theories. And from what I can work out, they dont come close to what anyone else thinks love is. Cept maybe one person. Which is why I am now asking myself Why dont we know what we've got til its gone? Someone today said love was allowing youreslf to be vulnerable enough to take a chance. Ok, it might hurt, and it might not. But if you dont take the chance, you wont ever know. Love sucks. Love bites. Love is the biggest liar in the world.

Im not in love, its not me. A friend of mine is. He didnt actually say it, but I can tell he thinks he is. He isnt of course. He wouldnt know love if it came up and smacked him fair in the face. He wouldnt know what baring your soul and ripping your own heart open love was if it scratched its name across his back. He wouldnt know the joy and the pain of hearing the one sentence and having it cause both emotions at the same time. He wouldnt know love if it had flame red hair, and a heart of steel on the outside and useless marshamallow on the inside.

And neither would I. Love is not what I thought it was. Love is not about wanting the other person to have everything they want. Love is not about them getting it. Love is not even about being in the same place at the same time, and I dont mean location wise.

Love is a bitch, that will leave you bleeding on the floor. Love is YOU getting back up again and pasting your own bandaid over the wounds. Love is crying your eyes out because you only this second realised Love, was not what you ever thought it was. IN fact, Love, is having that one person who agreed with what you thought love was, who thought love was the same thing you thought it was, wake up to themselves and push you into waking up to yourself and finding out that you dont have any idea what love is and you wouldnt know love if it wrapped itself up in a fabulous package and told you how they loved you enough not to tell you they loved you.