Part 13: Disposable Parts

You won't be around forever, girl,
You've gotta grab life with both hands.

-Snow Patrol

...

Sometimes love dies.

Or does it fade out? Either way, if it can so easily go away, was it ever love in the first place?

And it all circles back to my eternal, infernal question: how does one know what true love is?

Should I stay with Adam because it's easy and it makes him happy, or should I risk losing it all to pursue something that may or may not make me happy, and may break many hearts along the way?

Maybe it's my idea of Noah that I love. Maybe if I was with him, I'd be feeling the same way and wishing I were with Adam, instead. Why is the grass always greener on the other side? Can I never be satisfied?

Or maybe it's just that I suffer from an artist's "tormented soul" and won't allow myself to be happy.

I guess the reason it bothers me so much is that I want to be in love. However much I claim that butterflies are not indicative of love, I want them! I want colorful winged insects fluttering in my stomach; I want to feel giddy and happy and nervous. I want to experience passion and fire and deep-gutted lust. But I can't muster it up. I can't force it, I can't make it happen. Am I asking too much? Is there no hope?

Who needs a drink?