"Love made me" has always been my answer to those kiddie slum book questions on love, forced on me by my too eager girly girl friends.
I have since then learned to rationalize all aspect of it. From that innocent confidence to this clueless unhinged jade, love has eluded me. I have not felt it, never have i felt it... what is it? is it the jump of a heart from a tender stroke? is it the shatter of a glass from a cruel shrill? or is it just the wet hard throb from a heated exchanged glance? no matter what it is its always been elusive to those who hungers for it and its always there to those sated by it.
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