Juliet’s Rant

I miss him terribly, but even still
I doubt the truth behind my sentiments.
I hesitate to call it love if all
it is is pure infatuation that
is typical of young hormonal girls.
I do not trust myself to use the term
of love accurately because I have
such difficulty understanding its
pure definition. I was taught that love
is not a feeling; it is sacrifice.
I think of love as a decision to
commit, and lust being the feelings that
come after. I come up with mental lists
of things I’d do for him as proof of my
commitment, for my feelings do not make
for solid evidence of love. That’s why
I say I’d make him dinner or massage
his feet, or take care of him when he’s sick,
because I’m desperately trying to prove
these feelings are not senseless whims, although
that’s what I am convinced they are. I do
not trust emotions and I do not view them
as highly as I should, because they don’t
seem like good reasons to do anything.
Because I do not trust emotions, I
have found myself looking for concrete ways
to show affection, or whatever keeps
me bound to him. The problem is, I’m stuck
Because I hardly ever see him and
I rarely talk to him, and that prevents
my concrete acts done in the name of love.
These thoughts therefore swirl in my head, and I
am left to wonder if I truly love,
or if I only think I do because
it’s all infatuated fantasy.

I wonder why it matters. If I spent
some time with him, it wouldn’t for I’d be
too busy doting on him. But I don’t
spend time with him, and so I find myself
Desiring to tell others I love him,
although I fear I’d sound quite immature –
a girl who knows not what she talks about.
And so I guess the root of all this is
I am concerned what others think of me.
However, on the other hand, what’s more
is that I care about my use of words.
I want to speak correctly for I’d hate
to say something that I don’t truly mean.

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