Love: In All Uncertain Terms

Love...

I don’t even know what it is anymore.

I thought it was that obsessive feeling that you get when you feel completely enamored with someone, where they occupy your every waking thought. I thought love was desire, I thought love was passion.

Then I was told that love is the exact opposite. That it's showing up every day, that it exists even when the spark is gone. That love is not something that magically happens to you, and even if you don’t ‘like’ someone, you can still ‘love’ them.

Then I saw love in either state wither before me like a plucked rose. It was here today and gone tomorrow in the blink of an eye whether a passion or a habit, and it seemed that maybe all forms of love are doomed to fail sooner or later.

How could it not when it was so contradictory and made no sense? I can't help but wonder if love is just an abstract notion we fill our time with to avoid contemplating the bigger, darker thing?

Or maybe it's all things, all at once, in all its hypocritical nature. Both feeling and action, choosing to stay and choosing to go. It's beautiful and painful, wonderful and sorrowful, full of the fires of passion and the cool waters of peace.

Maybe love cannot be defined at all. Its meaning and purpose are left up to our own discretion. Meant to be enjoyed in whatever form it comes and released when the time is right.