Love. What a strange word. What a strange feeling. What is it exactly ? A chemical reaction ? Something deeper ? I feel older than I am often, and yet when I realize that I don't know what love really is, I feel like a child. Because, the feelings I have felt, weren't love. I'm sure of it. It was attraction, likeness, but never love. I've tried to figure out what it really means to love someone. But I can't. I know that I can't say I love you to someone, because I don't know what it really means. I've realized that I'm not ready for it. I've also realized that no one my age, unless their names are Romeo and Juliet, could truly say the word I love you. We're too young and unexperienced. It's not love I tell them. It's likeness. But not love. And then, does love truly exist, or is it just a myth, a legend, created to comfort us in our pathetic lives ? Does love only exist in fairy tales ? I cried the only night while watching The Mists of avalon. I cried because of the impossible love that Guenevere and Lancelot were living. I don't know why that story in particular touched me, but it did. Michael Vartan was so sad, I could almost fell the sadness emanating from him. But he is just acting. Acting out a story old as the World. Another fairy tale. And so, if love is only a myth, a hope, a lifejacket to keep our head above water, then how can we so carelessly say I love you. If it isn't, if true love really does exist, then what to do ? spend our life searching for it ? Merely hope for it to cross our path ? Can we too hope for a love as pure as that of Lancelot and Guenevere's ? So many questions, so many doubts. Who will answer them ?