Love is the strangest force in the universe. It makes us do things we never thought of. It makes us think in ways we never imagined. It makes our dreams strange realities of emotions we didn’t think we had.
It never gets easier.
As a young adult, it seemed so easy. I love you. You love me. Easy, right?
As an older adult, I know it’s not easy but it doesn’t cushion the effect. It’s more complex because I know what I want and don’t want so I can weed people out faster. Which kinda makes it easier… But harder to find. The extra additive is since I’ve been in many relationships, I have my own quaint little wall that goes up even when I do find a good one.
I’m working on that one not hindering me.
So what is this LOVE thing people talk about?
Really…from all that I’ve learned thus far it’s the craziest addiction ever. No one can escape it. It makes me want to throw pint glasses at windows and scream at the top of my lungs. It makes me stay in bed for hours admiring my love’s body. It makes me cry when it’s lost and cry when it’s found. It makes me want to smash beer cans on foreheads when it’s not working right and smash cars when it’s working perfectly.
It seems as though there is no reason or rhyme to this creature, that it consumes like a black hole and is just as merciless and unyielding. Yet, black holes shine light back out.
Is it about living in the dicotomy of love’s bipolar behavior and finding the eye of the storm? Always living in the quiet of the whirl of disaster?
It seems cruel to always be forced to live on the edge of disaster in order to feel the ecstasy of love. Or is it actually quite simple and our human minds have a hard time comprehending the complexity of this simplicity?
I know….it’s almost 11:30pm in Denver and I’m 3 beers and 2 sakis in pondering fucking love. This sounds like a recipe for disaster and a bad night of sleep.
Of course, the kimchi stuck in my nasal passage isn’t going to help my sleep pattern at all. Inhaled at exactly the wrong moment.
People find love at all different ages. Is it really love? Is it lust? Maybe loneliness? A mix of everything? Do some people settle because its the closest thing? And is that worse than holding out for the real thing or the same?
Is it possible that love is multi-tiered and for 5 years one person is awesome and someone else is awesome for a different 5 years? And then where does that leave my grand parents?
I guess what I’m getting at is this:
Love is a mysterious force that nobody understands but we all feel and when you know it’s right, it’s right and you just have to ride the wave no matter where it takes you.