Often I ponder about the romantic love. How did I ever learn about it in the first place ? Is it such a natural thought? Or is it such a raw emotion? To me, it has existed forever. But I wonder about how I came to believe in its existence, in its truthfulness. Was it in my grandfather’s subtle care for my grandmother, when she was in her sick bed? Or is it lying in my mother’s forgiveness towards my father for his repeated silly mistakes? Or is it lying in my father’s attitude of protecting my mother from the harsh realities of life? Or is it lying in my sister’s tears for her husband’s callous comments? Or was it in my 16 year old close friend’s excitement when she was dreaming about an everything with her boyfriend? I don’t know. Maybe it is omnipresent.