Love has been ruined by movies. Storytellers have sexualized the emotion beyond separation while others have made it into a fantasy that no one can live upto. In the most ego less moments of our daily lives, our existential crisis simmers and ticks the logical brain to the question - "How many days do I have." As a 35-year-old man, I counted. I have 5475 good ones (till I reach 50), 3650 adjustable ones (till I turn 60), and hopeless 3650 days (till I turn 70). I don't think I will cross 70. So given that I am aware of my days - 5000+, what should I do?
Write, create, influence, make money and finally look back at the 5000 and say - I made good use of it? I felt like I made good use of my previous 10 years (3650 days - 25 to 35), but looking back, I can't feel any emotion for my achievements. The sense of accomplishment is an exercise in gratitude to deal with the uncertainties of an Entrepreneurial journey. The times I worked non-stop, I wasted, I reflected, I got drunk, I made love, I fell in love, I fought, I felt lucky, I felt loved, I felt I made a difference, I felt hopeless, I felt optimistic, I felt cautious and I deeply questioned my purpose, only the feelings of love has left any mark. Work no matter how much I enjoy didn't give me that feeling. Money in the bank didn't give me that feeling. Falling in love did. Seeing my son first time did. Escaping death and embracing my wife did. Nothing matches the moments of pure love.
If you are still wondering what love is.
Love is the sacrifice of your most precious commodity - "Time."
When a partner buys expensive Valentine's gift, he is overcompensating for the times he couldn't be there for her. When a parent overcompensates the lack of time with toys, he is hoping that the Child doesn't read between the lines, but even the innocent looking 5-year old, knows the rules of the world. Time for me is traded for an escape route from marriage, time in a cubicle, in front of the laptop, on the road solving a customer's problems, through pointless discussions about politics, celebrities, world affairs and gossiping endlessly about what the acquaintances 'thinks' about me while the only person who looks up to me slowly realizes his place in the hierarchy of importance. I don't have time. I am too busy. I have to work, earn a living. I just have 24 hours.
20 years passes, and you are in the middle of your last 3650 hopeless days, now craving someone to trade their precious commodity. No one is willing. No one notices you behind the wrinkly mass of obsolescence. You are waiting. Your memory can't hold the good, the bad, and the medallion of your greatest achievements. They all seem pointless when you are waiting for the final flash of light.
Who have I loved?