It always, always, always starts with an infinity, make it a double if you like. You think it's never going to end, you think you're never going to die, you think everything's all set, and now everything makes sense; you think that he's the one. But eventually, the infinity opens up into a question mark. Plans begin to unravel, promises can be unkept and feelings waver. What you were so sure of before, now you cannot even deem to pencil into your calendar. And reality smacks you in the face. What has been an unsure but hopeful question mark simply fades into a period, a blunt dot, an end. It affirms a fact that you live and breathe on but stubbornly refuse to realize: nothing is certain, and with a blink of an eye, some things -- most things, can go from a hundred to nothing. What has been so stable before, now lay crumpled at your feet.
Now you understand: What is love, but a series of signs and symbols and punctuations? It is a story, a myth, fed to little children for a good night's sleep, fed to adults to create a semblance of meaning in their lives. Always, it all trickles down to a single, painful dot -- you're lucky if you end with a comma. But have you ever read a story that ends with a comma?
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