Romantic love has never been mine. But I see it everywhere.
Love seems like an explosion, engulfing everything in its path. An overflow of feelings drowning every sense. It disregards common sense and every rule in the book. Everything is a hue of blush pink, with tinges of red which seem like lust, but are really the desire to be so close to a person you can feel their bones.
It’s how you want the world to slow down but hurry up, so you can spend one more second looking at them. Their face, their smile, the way their lips curl when they laugh or just to see the sparkle in their eyes.
Love seems like it started as a myth; something too mighty to be a human creation. It acts as a gift from the heavens itself. A legend told to children; being in love takes away pain, replacing it with hope. It is the essence of life and makes the world go round.
Love seems joyful, wonderful and vibrant.
It seems like love is a common miracle, floating its way into murky waters, leaving them as clear as untouched lakes. It can be seen everywhere, advertised on billboards the size of Mars, the main category of songs, films and books.
As a race, humans have even taken over the internet to find love. That’s how addictive and trendy it is.
It’s glamorised, dressed to the nines, in heels which seem a little bit too big.
Everything seems a little too perfect. But really, it’s distorted. Everything is slightly off.
Is love ever pure?
There can never be just love. Love comes as a couple, sometimes with a toxic trophy hanging off her arms. Love and money, love and war, love and peace. The ‘I love you but I am not in love with you’ the ‘I love you but it won’t work.’
Love is a rare substance to find on its own. It is never just love.
It can be love and loss, love and hate, or love and jealously.
Love is disorientating; painful. It seems ordinary, but is anything but. Like everything else, too much love can hurt you.
It cannot be truly reciprocated. It’s intoxicating, but never equal. One dose hits differently for two people. Everything goes dizzy, blurs, shifting slightly out of place. Instead of there being one of me, I now have two.
The next day, it seems like love accompanies you, becoming more than an emotion. It becomes an obsession.
But how? Isn’t it just a feeling? Something that comes to an end? Like your favourite story book, the outro of a masterpiece, the credits of a film?
To me, love is eternal. But a shapeshifter.
It is a common miracle, but with gaping flaws leading to disastrous consequences. Even animation says, “when you look at someone with rose tinted glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.”
From the outside, love seems suspicious. It seems too good to be true. There are risks that seem too obvious and yet people fall for it over and over again. But the upsides seem magical.
For some people romantic love isn’t needed. But it seems like it is too ingrained in our society to consider life without it.
Love is tricky to comprehend.