I just want to speak from the heart for a minute, about something that’s been really bothering me: love.
Love, or rather the pursuit of love, admittedly rules my existence. I often feel that I am defined by whichever relationship I am in (or not in) at any given moment. And looking back on it, that thought alarms me. Why should I be defined by love — the same love that has denied me, scarred me, blamed me, betrayed me? What is it about love, even as it hurts me, that I love so much? Rather, let’s make it universal:
What is it about love, even as it hurts us, that we love so much?
Some of us search endlessly for love, after suffering a broken heart. Some of us fight to defend a love that has let us down, time and again. Some of us remain faithful to a love that has never known the definition of LOYALTY…
So the question is, why? Are we afraid of the alternative? Because truly, what is the alternative to love? And I’m not just talking about its opposite (which for some is hate, but for me — indifference). I am talking about the alternative, in a person’s life, to being in love. All signs point to love. It is our inevitable outcome, whether we want it or not. Our world revolves around love. Did we ever even have another choice? Are we enslaved, by this thing called love? Have we fallen in love with our own oppressor….?
Love, I love you. I love to love you. But I hate that I love to love you…
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