The Changing Drop of Water

The Changing Drop of Water

I am looking for a particular drop of water in the ocean. It fell there sometime ago. At that time I didn't know it was called love. I never really understood it. My neighbor defines it as, "the wiggling buttocks" of her hot professor vigorously writing on the lecture board. My professor puts it this way, "I love my husband so stay away from me." My very pretty friend said, "ahh…you know…love is…please don't ask me." But I kept on asking around. I read about it and I pondered on it and of course love differs from person to person. It varies from culture to culture. It is perceived differently by persons of assorted ages and sexual preferences. It has a meaning that the movies and media have popularized that a lot of people have been trapped into and have been damaged by. But I know that is not the drop of water that I am looking for. All I know is that it is somewhere there in the ocean.

My neighbor has that particular drop of water in the ocean. My professor has her contribution. My pretty friend just cannot put it into words but she has a drop of love on it. All of their kind of love are there in the ocean. But as soon as that drop touched the sea, they all would say, "love is gone."

Maybe the right word for it is "lost." After all the ocean came to life from all the drops of love from people through millions of years. Love is there in a bigger scale. They blended with the others and changed. My neighbor, professor and pretty friends thought it is gone. But like a process of chemical reaction, it just changed. It evolved into something that not so many people understand and want to accept. It is its nature to change. It is the river that runs to the ocean and changes into vapor to become the clouds which turn gray and throw thunder and lightning and then weep down to the dry land and whose tears gets sucked in by the roots of the plants that have flowers to collect the drops of dew in the morning that glisten under the ray of the sun and make my pretty friend smile.

She smiled for sometime because she said she is in love and then with great fury yelled and cursed at the world for being abandoned by love. When her energy was spent, she cried. When the last drop of tear bid her goodbye, she smiled. She decided to look at the flowers with morning dew on it once again and got another love.

Love changes but the players of love don't want to change with it. My pretty friend would cling on to the euphoric initial phase of love and when it seems not there anymore she would say, it is over. Like an addict, she would not want to part with the delightful feeling of the first stage. Rage and frustration would take over because she doesn't want love to change. She would look for another one and would find it. She is pretty after all. But she fools herself. What she would look for is not another love. It is the player of love that she changes to feel that rapturous initial stage again. But she never really goes along love as it changes. She plays along with the player of love, not love itself. That is why when love evolves she wouldn't recognize it anymore and she would start to pick on her playmate, and say, "you don't love me anymore." The other player will get confused and would react accordingly until both the players decide not to play anymore. They would say love has been dropped into the ocean and is gone. Then maybe, as the world turns, my pretty friend will grow old and mature playing along with a partner or another and will depart from this world while doing that. 

At the end of the day, a lot of love goes to the ocean where it will change and mature as what has been going on through millions of centuries. But I think a lot of people like my neighbor, professor and pretty friend will go around aged and changed without a love that is supposed to be... mature.

Well, please don't ask me. Let me continue looking for my drop of water in the ocean.