Not the movie, itself. No, no... The heartwarming story of Jay and Simran was, as Veer (fictional movie director and romance fanatic) would say, a "block buster". In this case, I'm referring to actual love stories; novels and movies, alike. I do not discriminate.
I. Hate. Them. All.
I mean... Did I cry, watching the movie "Titanic", when Rose let go of Jack's hand, dooming him to an eternal icy grave?
Yes.
Did I, however, shed tears when I watched it for the second time?
Also yes.
I mean, i'm no expert but let's face it; there was enough space to fit two people on that floating platform but apparently, someone dying is the greatest show of love.
Hello? Romeo and Juliet, anyone?
Random reader: "Sis, you're exaggerating."
Of course, I am! How else do you pass your points, meaningful or not, across? By calmly stating the facts like a normal human?
Lol. What are you? Mentally stable?
Oh, you are.
Nope... Can't relate.
Fine... I don't hate the stories, per say. I hate the way they affect how I think.
In case you hadn't noticed, I'm quite impressionable. I read one chapter of Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar", and it's "et tu, brute?" for the entire week. Or I binge watch my favorite K-drama series and it's "saranghae" to every guy that behaves, even slightly, as the character does.
So... No, it's absolutely not acceptable to portray love as this adrenaline-fueled, forever-spiralling rollercoaster when all it is, is prolonged lust and, finally, comfortable companionship.
Aww... Did I ruin love for you?
No?
Oh well.. It was worth a shot.
I'm kidding. Give it your best... Live, Love, Die.
This one is dedicated to Prosper, for whom I chose to write. Happy Easter, buddy.
- Vicki.
