I just sat at the keyboard one day and started writing, and, ta da! This is what popped out. Read. Enjoy. Review.
Don't own, don't sue.
Love as Defined by Webster
"What is love?"
I find myself asking this question more and more frequently. Love, as defined by Webster's Dictionary, is: a strong fondness or enthusiasm for something: e.g. A love of the woods. Now, I cannot say that I am very fond or in any cases enthusiastic about the woods, but I don't think that is what they were trying to get at.
Let's start with fondness. I don't remember the last time I felt truly fond of something. Someone, yes, but not something. Some would say I'm fond of my gun, after seeing the way I almost ritualistically clean and maintain it. But that is out of necessity, not fondness. If I could, I would throw it away without a second thought. It represents a past full of pain and loneliness, devoid of all things fond.
It may seem impossible, but there are fewer things I am enthusiastic about than I am fond of. It's true, you could say I was enthusiastic about carrying out my missions, but that was less enthusiasm and more a sense of duty and responsibility.
And that is why I am here. I feel responsible, and a little bit guilty. If I had just taken him away from Hojo, maybe our world wouldn't be in such peril. There are a lot of what-ifs when it comes to that time in my life. If I had done something differently maybe Meteor wouldn't be barreling towards us, if I had done something differently maybe she would still be alive.
If she could see me now, I'm not really sure if she would be proud. Those seemingly endless years of solitude and loneliness have taken their toll on me. But I'm trying to open myself up again, I really am. I'm trying to help all I can because I know I am partially to blame for all of this.
But this doesn't answer my initial question: what is love? Love isn't something I'll find in a book, a gun, or a mission, that I know for sure. The only hope I had of answering that question has been long dead, and I can't help but feel that it's my fault. I suppose love is just one of those things I'll never know. Yet there is one thing that I do know, love has nothing to do with the woods.
