How does one fall in love? How does one determine that they should be with someone and not someone else? How does one verify the earnesty of one's feelings and recognize it with utter certainty as love not infatuation, not lust, not friendship, not anything else other than that particular cornerstone of our humanness?
How does one know that what they see is real? That what they behold is not an illusion, a facade nor a front? How does one know that it is the person that they love and not the idea that one has of that person? For perception is a science apart from the truth and to love an idea is to love a little more than one should.
How does one know when to hold back or to let loose? How does one know when to fight and when to leave things as they are? How does one know when to wait and when to move on? How does one know how long to wait- a day, a week, a month, a year, a lifetime or never? Where does one draw the line between the quantifications of time?
How does one manage to heal, to withstand, to endure the deepest of wounds? We feel. Everybody feels. And more often than not, one feels more than one should in the presence of one's beloved. But how does one manage to rise above the hurt, the pain, the tragedies, the change and still find it in one's self to continue to love and with no less fervor, the object of one's affection?
If I knew, I'd be sure to tell. But I know that what I know is but a fraction of a whole. A glimpse of the elusive- perhaps more elusive to some than I - that we all long to behold without so much as a waver.