What is it that truly matters in life? I couldn't come up with any exact answers so I googled, and actually found this really interesting article written by Rein Raud, a writer.

He wrote a series of paragraphs, which were pretty ambiguous about the things that truly matter. I love this part that he wrote:

"A FRIEND OF MINE, B, once claimed that he had fallen in love with two women at the same time. The whole matter would be quite understandable, had these two been striking beauties, or, alternatively, young ladies of discreet charm. But, as he himself confirmed, both objects of his affection were unusually, even exceptionally, ugly. Since he was never to be seen in their presence, none of his friends could in any way confirm or deny this assertion, so all that was left was astonishment: B himself was after all notorious for the attention he paid to his own appearance. Thus, for instance, he refused to wear glasses despite his weak eyesight, since these would mar the expressive oval of his face.

It goes without saying that the split nature of his affections afforded him indescribable pain; even when summoning all the mental energy he could muster, he still was unable to decide on either lady. Going by what he said, they were very different as well: one plump, perhaps even corpulent, or actually boundlessly fat, and whom he, could not manage to embrace even in his thoughts. The other, on the other hand, was lean, that is to say lanky, or, to say it without any frills, thin as a lath, someone whose hand could not be held without it slipping through your fingers like a shadow. One of them was, relatively speaking, getting on in years, almost bordering on a decent age, but managed, as a person who has seen the ways of the world and of people, to give my friend advice and support. While the other was very young, a mere child, who wished to discover everything at his side, leaning on him, her wise and experienced companion.

In order to give us some idea of his anguish, B always omitted saying which was which, and his friends had to base their guesses on a few obscure hints, at times contradictory. Once I thought that the plumper lady had to be the young one of the two, still bursting with the energy of life; whilst the elder one I imagined as fading away like the waning moon. Then again, it would seem all the more likely that it was the elder of the two who had to be a large, primeval mother, at whose side B felt feeble and insignificant, while I imagined the younger of the two to be brittle, her growth still ahead of her. So, in my thoughts, by swinging from one extreme to the other, I was able to full well imagine the immensity of the burden shouldered by B himself.

But one day he put an end to all the due deliberations of his friends, announcing that he had become engaged. Which had he chosen? The fatter one, or the thinner? The younger, or the elder? He had spoken of them to us so much that we simply could not at first believe the unexpected resolution of his problem: in the end, he had yielded to the wishes of both his lovers and obtained a pair of spectacles, whereupon it transpired that the ladies had not in fact ever been two in number, but only the one, moreover prettier than average, neither fat nor thin, and of roughly the same age as himself – she had become so unusually divided only in his mind’s eye."

It has been over a year since we met.
So many things have changed,
So many thoughts have wavered.
I wondered what it means to love someone,
and I wondered what it takes to love you.
Carelessly I was drawn deeper and deeper by you,
and unfortunately I have found no escape.
Looking at how I have survived the past year
makes me confident that I’ll last for the next two.
You have no idea how much of my heart has skipped a beat for you,
and you probably don’t know how much you linger in my thoughts.
But I just think that at the end of the day,
I can look back and smile,
because in a awry and saddened place called life,
I managed to find you.

...It's not easy being in a relationship. Much less truly know the other one and accept them for who they are with all their flaws. Jack confessed to me his fear of being rejected if I truly knew him, if he showed himself totally bare to me. Jack realised that after two years of being with me that he didn't knew me at all. Nor did I know him. And to truly love each other, we need to know the truth about each other, even if it's not so easy to take.

I confessed to Jack that the toughest thing for me was to be with someone for good. The idea that this is it. This is the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. To decide that I will make the effort to stay and work things out and not run away when a problem is difficult for me.

I told him I could not be for just one man for the rest of my life. It was a lie, but I said it anyway. ... It always facsinates me how people go from loving you madly, to nothing at all. Nothing. It hurts so much.

When I feel someone was going to leave me, I have a tendency to break up first before I get to hear the whole thing. Here it is. One more, one last. Another wasted love story. I really loved this one. When I think that it's over, that I'll never see him again like this... Well yes, I will bump into him when I meet my new boyfriend, and act as if we have never been together. Then we'll slowly think of each other less, and less, until we forget each other completely.

Almost always the same for me. Break up, break down. Drink up, fool around. Meet one guy, then another, fuck around to forget the one and only. Then after a few months of total emptiness, start again to look for true love. Desperately look everywhere, and after two years of loneliness, meet a new love and swear again that he is the one, until that one is gone as well.

There's a moment in life when you can't recover anymore from another break up. And even if this person bugs you 60% of the time, you still can't live without him. And even if he wakes you up everyday by sneezing right in your face, well, you love his sneezes more than anyone else's kisses.