Love has been defined countless times before, each presented in the most profound and passionate ways, each unique in its own right but all the same nonetheless - the experience of loving and being loved in return.


To a jaded heart, these testimonials are but mere definitions. Fruitless attempts to put into words the most overrated and [over] abused intangible known to men. In this world where mistrust, self-centeredness and pessimism prevails, who could blame them?


But once these love-antagonists had their share of the one thing they loathed most, they fumble and fall. Their fortress made of stone suddenly vanishes into thin air. Their steel balls turn to cotton balls, their hard resolve to not to love are now just lies.


Their once "what's love got to do with it?" mantra is now replaced by "love is a many splendor thing" crap. Pathetic is not even enough to describe them. Fools? Jerks? Maybe. Maybe not. Four letter words are just too polite for them. They became the walking anomalies of love. And life. They got what they deserve, so you say.


And what's this all about?


I think I'm in love. God help me.