Disney can go suck a nut.

I used to believe in it. I used to wish and dream and try to understand it. And now, at the young and possibly just naive age of nineteen I've come to, not a conclusion but a pause, to consider that there may just not be "truly authentic love." I believe in acceptance, will-power, and honesty. I believe in the strong emotions and sometimes inevitable attachment to a person or persons. I understand the flare-up of the gut, the one where all the spaghetti in your stomach from last night's dinner feels like it sprung to life and decided that it would be a fantastic idea to practice some Olympic-sized aerials right then and there. I am also aware of when these feelings are set off not necessarily because of how long so-and-so's legs are, or how many bricks are in their abs, or whether it would be a kiwi , watermelon, or a banana that would best fit inside their undergarments, but because they are who they are and not only have tolerable quirks, but have quirks that you have a little thing for too. But is that what love is? Is it simply a bunch of okay dear's, heartburn, fruits, and a fetish?

I grew up watching television like any other youngin', not particularly because I was infatuated with a specific show or that I had nothing else better to do, but when my mom was tired of me riding around the house with my mini engine motorcycle zooming up and down the halls at a whopping five miles per hour, or shaking my hips with a hoola-hoop while it smashed to the floor every ten seconds because, I will admit, I was not very good, the television was, and remains to be, God's gift to all parents. From these shows, I learned fear from the multiple clowns in Are You Afraid of the Dark?, friendship from the Babysitter's Club, anger from the strong desire to punch Angelica in the face, and love from my personal favorite, Aladdin.

As I grew older, I realized that clowns are not that scary, little overzealous girls like the ones from the Babysitter's Club are actually quite annoying, that I would still like to punch Angelica in the face if I was ever given such a chance, and that while it would be a dream for my own personal Aladdin to take me on a magical carpet ride with Abu as he sings to me sweet, sweet love songs in his sexy perfectly pitched voice under the stars, it is just not realistic.

But of course, I am straying from the point because love is not to be confused with infatuation and lust. It is, so they say, something much, much more. And, it is, in its own sense, magical. I, however, say cut the bull crap. I am young, I am ignorant, and I am probably immature in many senses, but I can not help to feel that when it dwindles down to the very core of everyone's little heart, brain, mouth, stomach, genitals, or where-ever, whoever thinks love is or where it comes from, it is a different experience and feeling for different people.

Be reminded that I did not say that I do not believe in love, but that I do not believe in “truly authentic love.” Authenticity is the word you hear in trade shows, where people try to see how much their five-hundred year old spoon is worth; where it must be examined by the experts who can date the manufacturers back to god knows when, and then check to see if it is made of real silver, gold and rubies. This is something you can get from history books and years of study and practice. Love, while I am sure many would appreciate it, probably can not be found in a Love for Dummies handbook-- but please, do not quote me on that statement.

Honestly, I do not know how to define love aside from the examples I used in the first paragraph with perhaps a few more carefully added details sprinkled in. More so, this is not an argument towards who I think loves versus who is just fooling themselves because, I would not even know how, or want, to start that bloody journey down that godforsaken road. But I do think the words are meant to be somewhat sacred, and that, like a group on Facebook states, “Disney gave me unrealistic expectations about love” which till this day makes me a little bit sad.

Damn you, Disney. Damn you.