The Heart's Desire and Love's Expectations

All she wanted was to be loved. And to be loved the right way, her way, her heart's desired way. But you don't always get what you want life to give you.

Instead, she waltzed into domains that trampled upon her heart as if a herd of a hundred elephants were being chased from their homes. She was hot and dazed, confused and by all means hurt. Because this isn't what love is 'posed to feel like. It's not supposed to feel like a thousand pricking rose thorns sticking thru and thru for the heart's contents to drip, drop, and splatter onto linoleum floors and suede nude pumps. No, not love. Not the love dreamt of in fairytale dreams surrounding that one princess who meets her prince when she least expects it. The magicalness of it all is what love is 'posed to be about. What it's supposed to feel like.

Love, you're supposed to feel good. You're supposed to make me sing your name with eyes wide open and eyes wide shut during my day dreams and my night dreams. You're supposed to be with me at all times; loneliness with you around is nonexistent. Love, your lips are supposed to be tender when pressed against mine as my heart's pitter-pattering matches the elephant stampede that crushed it in the first place. You, are supposed to be everything that a girl who grows into a woman, has ever imagined you to be. You're supposed to be worth more than the diamonds and pearls, more than the dozen roses, treasured jewels, and surprised weekend getaways. You're, even supposed to be more surprising and more enchanting than the night he settles upon that one knee to offer that one ring and ask that one question.

Quite possibly, too many expectations and rules and guidelines have been placed upon your head. So much that not even you, this unseen notion of what "love" is supposed to look and feel like, that not even you can live up to these desires. These expectations and wants. These dreams of fairytales that say what "love" is to be like.

So I apologize to you on behalf of the millions and billions of women like me who have this Kodak vision of a picture of what love is when the photo hasn't even been taken. I know how I want my heart to feel when love walks in. And I even know how I don't want my heart to feel when love ponders walking out. In my realm of dreams, love, is a one way door: we walk in, but we never, ever walk out.