{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

They say love will conquer all. Was it 'will', or was it 'can'?

Once upon a time, I was unwavering sure of that too.

As I grow old and cynical, more and more I doubt that. I question that. My brushes with love ground me more and more to practicality.

Love shouldn't feel like that.

How can two people fight, then go to bed (and sleep), and wake up with the cloud still hanging over them? How can each of them not face a new day with new hopes?

How can I still get up and take a shower, using the shampoo that will make my hair soft and shiny, for him? How can I emerge from the shower, thinking how nice it'd be if he were here to smell my clean, fresh self?

I don't understand how I can close the fight when we hang up and go on as though my heart hasn't just a second ago been shattered into shards. Go on with my mundane routines, all the time thinking how he'd love this, or that, or everything.

It feels like going on belittles the fight. Like it wasn't important enough to wreck the rest of my day. Or paralyze me in bed with tears.

How can I do that when just a second ago we've staked each other hearts with wooden splinters?

What is wrong with me?