A few years ago, a friend of mine broke up with her then boyfriend by telling him,
“You remember how I said I loved you last week? Yeah, I lied,”
While I (along with everyone else) agreed that she was a little harsh, I never quite understood what she meant when she’d said it.
Until recently, I pretty much figured that you either love someone or you don’t. But I’ve figured out that, like every emotion, whatever love is can fade pretty quickly.
But then I stopped loving someone, just like that. Someone who, for almost a year I was wondering why I couldn't love anyone OTHER then him. It was so sudden (and shocking) I had to really sit down and think about what had happened, which led me to think about what love really is.
Love (unfortunately) isn’t concrete, it isn’t permeant. It’s a mental disorder that we cure ourselves of regularly.
Even so, we seek it out almost constantly. We want love, need it even.
Why is that?
Look at all the crazy, embarrassing, stupid, obnoxious things people do for “love”. If it’s not crazy I don’t know what is. Yet we do these things happily.
We enjoy the thought of having someone there for us through thick and thin.
But the truth is, you can fall out of love just as easily as you can fall in it.
So we take all the love we can get. We mourn the love we lost or ignored. We berate ourselves over all of the stupid, crazy, obnoxious things we did.
We pick up the pieces of our shattered hearts and glue them back together.
And then we do it all over again.
In the end, how can it possibly be worth it?