Gus (45 page)

Only fools believe in love.

And I am no fool.

Love is strange. It comes out of nowhere. There's no logic to it. It's not methodical. It's not scientific. It's pure emotion and passion. And emotion and passion can be dangerous because they fuel love...and hate.

I'm now a reluctant connoisseur of both—an expert through immersion. I know them intimately.
 

When I fell in love with Miranda, it was swift and blind. We were both young. She was smart, beautiful, witty, and elusive. Rumors surrounded her like a legend that's repeated in hushed whispers for generations based on hearsay and speculation. People said she was cruel, I saw strong willed. People said she was aloof, I saw independent. People said she was cunning, I saw goal-oriented. For every warning I was given, I put on rose-colored glasses and looked at her through my own warped, but discriminating, perspective. That is perhaps my biggest flaw, as well as my saving grace; I tend to only see the best in people. I had visions of grandeur. I didn't want to change her—I didn't think she needed changing. She was the person I'd elevated to mythical status in my head, in my dreams.

Here's the thing about dreams, they're smoke. They're spun as thoughts until they become something we think we want. Something we think we need. That was Miranda. She was smoke. I thought I wanted her. I thought I needed her. Over time reality crept in and slowly dissected and disemboweled my dreams like a predator, leaving behind a rotting carcass.

Reality can be a fierce bitch.

So can Miranda.

And I can be a fool...

who believes in dreams.

And people.

And love.

There are a lot of things I've done without during my twenty-two years. You can't miss what you never had, right? That holds true for everything in my life, except one. Love.

I miss it, even though we've never met.

It's not something I've idealized into unobtainable perfection. Humans are messy and I'm sure love is too.
 

I think love is instinct driven, with the heart ruling over mind. It can't be defined. I'll just know it when I feel it, because it will be so bone-jarringly beautiful.

I want that someday, bone-jarringly beautiful.