what is this thing called love?

this funny thing called love
just who can solve its mystery?
why should it make a fool of me?
I saw you there one wonderful day
you took my heart and threw it away.

"You gave me days of gladness; you gave me nights of cheer. You made my life an enchanted dream, until somebody else came near."

This song's been in my head for weeks now. Love is lovely transformation. I pretend I know nothing of pedestals, of putting people on them. I pretend my love is tangible. I pretend I'm free right now to go away, run away and be that girl (that woman) he thinks I am. Give up the sham I live for one day of reality with him--and then another part of me wants to dress up like Little Bo Peep (like I did one day in second grade) and herd imaginary sheep back into their pens forever. In other words, I don't want to grow up. I don't want to be looked at as a woman. There are too many connotations involved in being perceived that way. On the other hand, I want to be kind and sweet and grown-up in my cares and worries--to care and worry more about the person I love than I do about myself. I wonder if that selflessness is enough to carry one through a relationship. Are people that selfless, a whole life through? Is it wrong to want to be adored without worrying about adoring? I mean--for me, adoring, loving someone means not being myself. Being what they want me to be, out of love.

I don't think I know what I'm saying. Type it out, forget it. Louisiana's a wasteland.