Stupid love (?)

As difficult as it might seem to accept, the story of Romeo & Juliet was like the story of El Principito; somehow, without having read it before, I knew all about it - hell, I might have even been able to quote it. Now, after finishing the whole thing... *cough, cough*... I can seriously say: Dang it! I am confused. I don't know how to feel about it and I also feel I haven't been loved enough. (really? such a cliché).

So, instead, I'm not going to try and make fall asleep with an amazing essay/analysis of what this play is about; I'm going to tell about...me. (Yep)

This is me. 23 year old Roxana. Student. Talented writer, singer, and actress (yeah, right!). Taken, and for the longest time ever. Before this, there was 16 year old Roxana. Young me was so different, and in so many ways. But above all, young Roxana thought about love as something that could only exist in movies and songs. Young Roxana had never had a boyfriend, and nobody had never liked little Ro back. However, one day I saw this kid, whose name I can’t give you, and I thought: this is it. I’m in love. (Love at fir… you know how it goes) Little me didn’t know what to do, nevertheless, how to approach this handsome man -yeah yeah, very manly-.

So what did I do? Started writing poems. POEMS. Yes. I have a collection of those. Gave them to him, and he gave them all back *bummer*. What was I doing wrong? I mean, wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? Write poems, sing songs, climb up a balcony? I went emo… all-out.

I think maybe two weeks passed. Little me was walking around, thinking about all things emo, and suddenly… I see him. This handsome (much, much more handsome) guy, walking around, just like me, with his amazing hair and school uniform - so stylish. I was in love again. It all seemed to work perfectly because he “tots” liked me back. We hung out, we talked a lot, we went to school together so we saw each other everyday, and when hormones got involved, we kissed a little. Perfect love story. Only, it wasn’t perfect. It ended. Just like all love stories should. (there’s really only two ways in which love stories can end, but they all do)

Now, you might think this isn’t a love story at all.

Yes, I was 16. Yes, I had all these misconceptions about love. Yes, I had gone all emo for someone else just two weeks before meeting him, and yes, I did believe that love was the same as infatuation. But haven’t we all been there? We’ve all been in love in a completely idiotic way.

I believe we don’t get to judge how someone else feels. We don’t get to say that what another person is feeling, even for the shortest time, isn’t what they think it is. (Yes, there was a connection. Don’t be dumb, I need my grade.)

I think, in a way, we are all Romeo. If you don’t feel like it right now, just look back. I’m pretty sure there’s something similar to this story in your past. So, what I’m trying to say is, don’t be so harsh when judging Romeo. He is not shallow and immature -well, maybe a little-, he is just a person. A teenager to be more specific.

Like all of us, he suffered:

“BENVOLIO : […] What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

ROMEO : Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

BENVOLIO :In love?

ROMEO :Out—

BENVOLIO :Of love?

ROMEO : Out of her favour, where I am in love.

(1.1.10)"

But then, he learned to love again:

"ROMEO: O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!It seems she hangs upon the cheek of nightLike a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.(1.5.1)"

Love exists in all forms: it can be tragic, it can be beautiful, it can end quickly, it can last forever. What is more important, is to feel it. However you want it, whenever you want to, for the amount of time you consider is right. If Romeo had listened to other people, he would have never experienced the kind of love he felt. When I said love stories can only go two ways, I really meant it. Either you break up, or you take it with you until the end. So, for me, he wasn’t stupid. Dying with his love wasn’t foolish. He didn’t know Juliet was alive, so he only did what all people who know they have found someone who’s special and important for them, do. He decided to spend the rest of his life with her.