I never liked to write about love. Because it’s probably the only feeling which cannot be described, be put in any category and succumb to any logic rule. Love is hard. Really very hard. This is burden of responsibility, forever FEAR to lose you loved one, permanent anxiety not to correspond to persons demands.
Whoever you love — man, woman, mother, kid, this fear to become attached too much to this, so that in future it won’t be so painful to untie this invisible «threads», when it’s all over.
Love scares me because it’s so irrational and inconsistent. This is what unique in love is — there are no laws. It just exists. Or doesn’t. You can’t control it. Human can’t control anything. For example we can’t control our dreams. And if we can’t control ourselves. how can person control feelings for someone?
Love is also sad. No your love object near you — that’s all every minute is unhappy. And what is it all for? Why? No logic! But then in future, to know that this someone still remembers your perfume smell, that they have a smile on his face when they hear your name.
Love is glimpse of light in series of pain. Same as pauses between contractions. You’ll walk and love. Until you die.