Lost love?

When we stop loving, or lose love, where does it all go?? Forgive me for sounding a bit too carrie bradshaw, but I can't stop wondering what I am to do with all this lost love.

It's a funny thing, love. It's one of those rare English words that seamlessly transforms from a verb to an adjective, to a noun, an adverb and back to a verb again. Yet, we can't touch love. We can't technically see it either. It's much like the wind, or faith. It's intangibility is only made tangible from a feeling.

So what is it, exactly? In Greek, there are 13 different words for love. This is how loosely we define our English words. We have one. One word to encompass every feeling under the sun that stems from this love. I love new York in the fall. I love my Chanel sunglasses. I love all 94 pairs of my shoes. I love my family. I love vanilla cupcakes. I love sleeping in. I love my friends. I love cheese pizza. I love traveling. I loved a boy...
And then I stop short. LoveD. Is it really possible to stop loving someone the second they cowardly break your heart into a million tiny pieces? Does the love just evaporate into thin air? Where does it go? If they can quit so easily, shouldn't all of us be able to break the intangible bond, if for no other reason than to stop the endless torture?
Here's my revelation: Once the passion, the euphoria, and the pleasure fades, all you're left with is a choice. A recognition that love isn't always cupcakes and high heels and pretty leaves and glitter. It's a choice to stick out for the long haul; to understand that with the fabulous new York autumn, comes the inevitably unbearable winter, and to get one, you must have the other. A choice to choose to stay. To make it happen, to recognize that half of love is the hard stuff...it's what makes the good stuff worth it.

It brings me back to my original question: when love ends, where does it go? With all its illusions and games, I would still like to believe that love, in all its forms, comes from a pure and sacred place, and if love does have to end, if it were really love, it would come from a place of purity and peace.
So maybe the lost love wasn't ever really love after all.

Easier said than done, right? So that's it. Maybe we're all mistaking the good stuff for love and love only, and we are just waiting; hoping that if we finally find our "match" and true "love", the glass slipper will always fit. Unfortunately, feet grow (hello pregnancy). Styles change. Glass breaks. And if its really love; true abiding forever love, you know you can always just go to the 4th floor of bergdorfs to get a new pair of shoes. 
It's like one of my fabulous femmes,  Coco Chanel said: "Jump out the window if you are the object of passion. Flee it if you feel it. When Passion goes, only boredom remains." passion is never enough. The second we realize it's the passion AND everything that comes along with it, we'll have passion filled relationships forever. Courage of conviction, and a heart ready to endure a ride of its life- these are the only souls that survive love and still live to tell about it, or rather show it; in 13 million different ways.

The first night of the rest of my life.

I realized there is a horribly distinct pattern in my writing. I tend to only do it whenever something shakes my core to the point of no return. To no avail, here I find myself, once again, clicking away on an empty screen; to prove my case in point. The difference this time, I think, is going to be the outcome of my core-shaking moment.

It comes at an opportune time. Weeks after reaching my 28th (gasp) year, I am faced with a decision that, to most people would seem, at first glance, more like a requirement than a decision. The decision to finally be the woman I was destined to become.
What most people don't know is that choosing to become who you actually are is a quite difficult and intricate process. A process that, despite many who are led to believe they constantly and inevitably live day in and day out, very few actually follow. The majority of people in the world follow a certain prescription of life. Because they should. Taking each day in stride, following a path that was already given to them; from their parents, lovers, husbands, teachers, wives, etc.. In fact, very few of us create our own paths. We end up falling victim to something or someone that comes along the way, and eventually convince ourselves that it is something we wanted all along.

Who really and truly has the guts to search within oneself, discover what it is that fuels them; to find the desire and passion to take them through anything and actually live it, everyday and never stop, no matter what the obstacle?

The fewest of the few, this much I know. In the next few months, I will be researching and revealing these brave souls. The fearless women who stop at nothing to be all they can be; never letting anything or anyone get in their way.

Through these brave hearts, I pray I find my place. Among the few that fought and fight the good fight; that live every day to the fullest, and leave a mark on us all. I know I was destined for greatness; and my place is among these women. Watch out world. Here I come.