Love. I like love.
Love makes one feel giddy, like you are about to fly.
It makes you look at another person and see the greatness within them.
It makes you so happy for simple things, for while in love, nothing is too small.
Yet it hurts.
Sadness overcomes one in the night, the knowledge that your love is greater.
That it isn’t returned.
I wish I didn’t love, I wish I didn’t care.
I wish they loved me back.
Or do I?
Is love really great enough for me to wish it on another?
Love for myself at least?
To love me…
That sounds rather horrible. Loving me.
I am not sure what about me warrants love, therefore to love me would be to leave one’s senses.
I’m not going to wish insanity on anyone.
Yet I still love.
I love ardently, breathlessly. I love so passionately that my soul does not have enough for anything besides love and worry for those I love.
I wish it did.
I wish I didn’t love.
Life wouldn’t hurt so much.
But is life without love worth living?
Love gives purpose, it gives sympathy, if I didn’t love I wouldn’t be able to care so much for others, for the ones I don’t love.
If I didn’t love, I wouldn’t know how to be kind.
How to cry.
I wouldn’t know what a broken heart felt like.
I wouldn’t know what a sleepless night was.
I wouldn’t have the demons who disturb me and run after.
If I didn’t love, I wouldn’t hate as much.
Or perhaps I would hate all the more.
I don’t know. All I know is that I do love,
And while it hurts to hold so tightly to a shadow of affection from others,
It goads me forward, and gives me a dream.
A dream of giving substance to the ethereal part of love.
A dream of living up to the purity of true love, requited or no.
That is what love teaches.
And I wouldn’t be alive without it.