Who will be the one we die with? There will be many people we meet along the way. A few of which we fall in love with, but who? Who will be the one we truly love? Who will we be truly be willing to spend our lives with? Who will we choose to be with us when we die? More importantly, will they choose to stay with us until that moment of final, eternal rest comes?


What is the definition of true love? To those many people we meet along the symbolic road of life, we will say, "I love you." Do we really mean this? Doesn't "I love you" pretty much translate to "I would like to spend the rest of my life with you"? Or is love a temporary thing, a word to be tossed around like a geek in a crowd of bullies?


When will we find this true lover? Will it be near our dying day, or right after birth? I assume it will not, contrary to popular belief, be when we least expect it. We're always expecting love to reveal itself. We always hope it will show up, therefore, we are always looking, and, correct me if I'm wrong, but when you look for something, don't you expect it to show up?


Where will we find this true love? Will it be in the coffee shop like all of those romance movies? Or will it be at work? Maybe it'll be at home with a real good friend who came over to hang out? You know that saying, "You look for love in all the wrong places"? As we are always looking for love, I assume we need to go somewhere else?


Why is it, that when we think we have this love, it slips through our hands? We somehow find a way to kill the "love" we have for someone. Is it because that person is not, in fact, the one we love? That seems quite valid. Maybe it is because we just are not sure, so we get scared and end up running away. We then think, 'Was that really a good idea? Should I have broken that off?' Maybe we should have, but, then we would never know whether or not that person was the one we love.

And finally,

How will we know when we find this love? Will there be fireworks? Will someone come to our door with a million dollar check, a TV camera, and a big fake grin? Maybe it won't be that obvious. Maybe we have to delve deep into the uncharted areas of our minds to figure it out. Then again, it may not be that hard to figure out. It surely isn't the butterflies we get when we think about this other person. That is more a sign of nervousness. You are unsure of whether you love them or not, so you get nervous. Here is the only way I can figure out how we will know: We live with them, we laugh with them, we cry with them, and then we die with them.