Many things written about love, and today I feel like contributing.

To me, love is a realisation that leads to many varied feelings. Love; it’s a want and a need for greater things. Most people look to another person as a vehicle for these greater things, as if the discovery of that one person to love will lead them to discover all that they want to discover in life, the universe, everything. When you love that other person, you have an avenue in which your thoughts and efforts bounce off, and they tend to bounce to the greatest highs or the deepest lows. 

I don’t know what I’m saying, sometimes. But to me, love leads to varied feelings, chiefly among them discomfort. That is, I feel like I’ve opened myself up to another person. Imagine it as a person exposing her innards in front of another person, free for manipulation, harm, or healing. Dirty and disturbing as it sounds, that’s how I feel, as if I’ve cut open a part of myself, and that the resultant scar will always be better than the intact flesh that it was before it. 

Discomfort. Every time, I start wondering when I started changing, and sometimes it scares me. Most of the time, I’m not with the person I love, and it’s the worst discomfort. I know that walls and distance are necessary to make things worthwhile, because without discomfort, there isn’t much of anything else. Pain is when you know that you’re alive. When you’re numb, you lose your ability even to doubt things. 

I am feeling the discomfort of living full-force. A lot of things are changing, at a frightening pace that it’s almost mutation. But I know that at least, I love. And I know that I won’t stop anytime soon.