Choosing or falling?

"Often, we fall in love with the most unexpected person, at the most unexpected time." - unknown

Found that particular quote while scrolling down my Twitter timeline, and my first response was "true that". I remember that someone ever told me that the term "falling in love" was wrong. He said that we chose to love. And I was like, "really?"

I mean, do we choose it? Choose is an active verb. We can choose because we have choices; we have options. I don't think that's the case of love. Love is something unexpected. It simply comes out of nowhere. Most of the time, we are not really sure how, when, and why it all begins. It just happens.

Besides, love is an abstract thing. People say that it's like wind: we cannot see and touch it, yet we can feel it. As for me, I can't quite define what love is. What is love? What we should feel so that we can be considered as "being in love"? If love itself is hard to define, how can one even 'choose' to love? Really?

I still believe that being in love is something that happens 'accidentally'. Yes, falling; that's the word.

*put any emoticon here*

"People change. Feelings change. It doesn't mean that the love once shared wasn't true and real. It simply just means that sometimes when people grow, they grow apart." - (500) days of summer.

There's a guy. He was my bestfriend. "Was", because sadly I don't know where we stand now. We used to talk a lot. We used to share almost everything. We completed each other's sentences. We called each other bestfriends. Because of something, I guess we are falling apart; drifting away from each other. I don't know what that "something" exactly is, though.

See, the worst feeling ever isn't not being able to talk to the one you used to talk to, but not knowing how, why, and since when it all happened. We now barely talk; it seems to me that he even avoids me. And yup, I don't know how and why and since when it all began.

Many questions are running through my head, and I keeps assuming. I know, why don't I just ask? That will make things clearer, won't it? Gah. Not a chance. Not an answer. I even started to believe that he himself doesn't know what's going on.

All I know that he keeps messing with my head. In some points, I know there's something wrong with him, with us. But in some points, he can come and make everything looks pretty normal, before it's back abnormal again the other day.

Yesterday, I stumbled upon this one particular quote. It said "sometimes you just outgrow people. Don't try to fix it or repair it, just accept it and move on." Dang! As if a million knives had just been stabbed to my back, it hurt. So much.

Over and over again, I've been trying to fix things up; mending my friendship with him. The worst part is I don't even know what I'm trying to fix. I always thought that there's something left, eventhough it's just a tiny little piece of us. I keep asking myself why; keep assuming how. I keep trying to take back what I had yesterday, despite the fact that it has been gone away. He keeps messing with my head, and mostly because I let him to. *sigh

Well yeah, I guess sometimes we just outgrow people. No need to ask why. People who meant to stay in our life will stay eventually, but those who don't will leave, sooner or later. No matter how precious he is. No matter how much he means to me. No matter how my heart and head keep telling me that he's the one.

I just miss him so much. End of conversation.

Home is a four letter word.

"Just know that wherever you go, you can always come home" - 93 Million Miles, Jason Mraz.

Life has never been easy and truth is ugly. Sometimes my road seems like a dead end, or a neverending maze with no way out. But when things are about to get worse, I'm glad to know there are always hands I can hold on to, shoulders to lean on to. Wonder how they're never tired of getting me back to the right track, wonder why they never give up.

But then, I couldn't be any more grateful than this.
I call them home. And just like love and life, home is a four letter word.

Sincerely, the lost and found. Big Time.

Very well, but..

One day, my cousin texted me and said, more or less, "Listen to this song." And then he sent me the song. It was a girl singing with a guitar, and the song was not familiar. It was beautiful though.

Then, just like what I always do everytime I discover a good song, I quickly googled it up. Wikipedia said, it was a popular old song, composed by Hoagy Carmichael in 1939 based on an old poem by Jane Brown Thompson. And here is the lyric, read carefully.

I Get Along Without You Very Well

I get along without you very well,
of course I do.
Except when soft rains fall and drip from leaves
then I recall
the thrill of being sheltered in your arms.
Of course I do,
but I get along without you very well. 

I've forgotten you just like I should,
of course I have.
Except to hear your name
or someone's laugh that is the same,
but I've forgotten you just like I should. 

What a guy,
what a fool am I
to think my breaking heart could kid the moon
What's in store?
Should I phone once more?
No, it's best that I stick to my tune. 

I get along without you very well,
of course I do.
Except perhaps in Spring,
but I should never think of Spring
for that would surely break my heart in two.

And I was like, what a poem! I don't mean to sound mellow or something, but it felt like reading someone's struggling after a horrible break-up, fighting one broken heart, and trying to feel fine when she's not. On her mind, she thinks she has moved on, while in fact she's not, just yet. Excepts and buts are sort of instruments to legitimate her feeling towards all of this moving-on things. And it got me thinking:

"Don't we sometimes act that way?"

Sometimes we pretend we're good, we try to believe everything's okay, while deep inside our heart there's uncertainty. We are just not really sure about what we feel.

Denial, denial, denial.

I'm not saying that we should give up or something, it is probably more like, why don't we sit back and admit that we are not fine?

Anyway, despite the ugly things, well done, Thompson, for describing how it (most likely) feels...

This dirty fully-written little paper is talking.

"Sometimes, when I'm trapped in a hard confusing nasty situation, I imagine myself as a dirty fully-written paper. There are a fine eraser and a brand new pencil coming their way to save me." - me.

And now I'm kinda waiting for them; my eraser and my pencil. This messy little paper is ready to be cleaned up, before it gets too late and the only way to save me is by tearing me apart.

But if it helps, why not?

Sometimes erasing will just leave that dirty spot on the paper. Sometimes writing on a used paper won't make it new and clean. It's a used paper after all. Replace it with the brand new one.

Then this whole little paper analogy gets me confused. Sigh.

This little paper,