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The idea of love has had me twisted lately. What does it mean? Do you know it when you feel it? Is it something that can be quantified in how someone treats you or the way they look at you? Your pets love you and they don’t speak English. What is it then? What makes us feel this way? Is it our need to be connected to another negating the soul of who we are in “love” with for our own selfishness? I’ve always thought love was security. Comfort. A willingness to disagree and argue out a problem until a conclusion was discovered. To be able to sit with someone not saying a word and feel very relaxed and not alone. That’s how I feel with my good friends. Isn’t that love? Or does love need to be saved for some intimate situation?

 

Today I feel that it is all of these things and none of these things. It is simplicity in its purest form and THE most complex notion of all time. It feels great when you feel it and lousy when you loose it. The most frustrating thing is that you can’t convince someone to love you. No matter how much you try we each have our own compass. I start feeling resentment when I feel I have tipped the love scale as I wait for them to tip it back. Is that even a thing? Maybe but it’s a fight. Not an argument but a mental struggle. Hard work. Hard work against what we internalize is acceptable to ourselves. What we think we “should” be providing or doing for the object of our love. Love is hard. Love makes us crazy. Love is the reason to wake up and the reason we can’t sleep at night. The idea of love has me twisted lately. What does it all really mean?

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