do not ask me about Love.

I wonder if it is ever possible to conceive the existance of a feeling if one is by vocation skeptical about it... one might have been close to it, without being able to recognize it or to name it.I have always been very curious about what I read about Love, and I made up my mind not to miss the occasion to recognize it whenever I felt it. 
Most of it, is something I relate to my grandma's memory, to my friends, or to animals, but when it comes to those relationships... when people tell me about their own boyfriends or girlfriends they remind me mainly of a something I read in a book. 

I am not long in discovering the attitude of my lack of sentimental education, simply I do not manage to believe in Love, and even the careful examination of my heart, will not lead me to discover any Truth about myself or about the world. If I am ever able  to write about it, even with all of the romantic exactitude, in my life, I can not retain that feeling for long; my friend Ash knows exactly what he wants. He knows exactly what he feels. And I find myself wishing I was as wise as he. 

I have always spent my free time in reading or writing and I had this curiosity about Love as if it was sort of a language that could have been acquired through speaking it, so I read everything I could, about it. The whole literature seems to be permeated by it. But when I tried to set it into my life It was a disaster, they were not real, no connection, no solidity.  I have been asked very often these days (why?)  why I am on my own and I find myself replying I don't believe in relationships, I don't feel there is any genuineness, at least into the majority of relationships I see. Don't get me wrong, I do not mind about what other do but if I have to relate it to myself, I'd rather stay on my own rather than having a thief of my solitude.

So that's the reason I set all my romanticism in my dreams, in my writings, in my reading, it's the most authentic way to feel it, it gives me hope in things.