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In an instant I find myself searching for that thing which I’ve never been able to grasp. It’s neither the first nor the last time I’ll feel this way for you, and I continue to believe that my love for you will not end in a mere moment. Glimpses of perfection muddled by perpendicular bisectors refracting bliss.

I believe it was first through Moulin Rouge where I encountered this phrase. “Love is a many-splendored thing”. I’ve had this certain fascination with love lately for which I can’t quite find the reasoning. Where is the origin of love? What does it come from? If you know me, you know I don’t believe in God, so I’m not going to buy that God gives us love. Modern perceptions of love can of course be shaped and formed by such idealizations as fairty tales with happy endings and even more recently, Disney films. While these cultural phenomena have not surprisingly shaped the romantic comedies of the present, they do not perhaps depict the origin of this thing called love.

Who really knows where it comes from? What can really be said about it’s physiological as well as psychological effects on each and every one of us? Why is it that we feel a certain change when we find “the one”? I’m not sure I really believe in anything called love, but I am certain that I have most definitely felt the overwhelming effects. Perhpas my graduate research could be on the performativity of love or some nonsense like that. It’s not nonsense really, but it seems so interesting to me.

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