Lately, I’ve been thinking about a quote I read from F. Scott Fitzgerald and I can’t seem to get it off my mind. As popular as it is, I’m not entirely sure I follow his thoughts. “And in the end, we were all just humans… Drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.” I agree on this more than I would like to admit. As hopelessly romantic as I am, I believe that love has a strange way of working its magic, its force. And that it is more usually than rarely, that it fills the empty spaces we as humans have manage to create in ourselves. Whether it is from a broken heart, a broken childhood or a whole brokenness, love fills those empty holes in ways we cannot always explain or even begin to comprehend. This is important, because, as Fitzgerald says, we are drunk on the idea that nothing but love can heal our brokenness. I guess lately I’ve been feeling like love hasn’t done much for me. I used to think that if I found a boy who looked at me as if everything he ever doubted was finally clear to him, I was going to feel complete. And the thing is, I found someone like that once. And the most curious factor of this whole rambling, is that he did not only made me feel incomplete, but he also made me feel weak and vulnerable. A kind of vulnerability I would not like to feel ever again. I know for a fact that I shouldn’t blame this on love, or hold it responsible, because it is not responsible for the existence of someone as heartless as him. But still, what I’m trying to say is that I’ve found that love isn’t always about cliché moments. It isn’t about romantic movies and constant “I love you”’s, or utter happiness. I’ve found that love is what happens when your hands are so unsteady, they cannot hold your own world and heart together by themselves, and then something or someone holds them steady and brings you the stability you had been needing and didn’t know you could find. And love is quite magical when it comes to this, because that stability can be provided by an amazing person or an amazing project. I guess what I’m saying here is, we are wrong when we give the power of love to a person and not to a dream or an idea, or simply to ourselves. Then again, I’m just really tired of looking for love in someone else’s eyes when I know I can find it in my own.