On Love, go figure....

What is love? Such a cliché question, but one that has undoubtedly been asked by trillions of people over these human decades. Who is love, how is love, when is love, WHERE is love? Sometimes you absolutely ache for love, other times you behold it, feel it, sense wish it, want it. Some days all you want is to make love (and I’m certain this occurs more frequently for some than others). Sometimes, you resent it. Most often I feel you should cherish it. No matter what form it comes in. Some days the smile of a friend is enough love to burst your heart. Other times love is enough to crush and ruin your very existence. And still other days you long hungrily for the proverbial sensation of being “in love”. I personally sometimes feel like I’m in love with everyone. Everyone! I try to dig love out of every nook and cranny I can possibly fathom. Sometimes, more often than I care to admit, I invent love where love could not probably exist. I long for it every agonizing minute of every average day of my life. And I fear I will forever. I know I have it, I feel it and I see it, but will it ever be enough? Can one ever have enough of this stuff we deem to be love? I feel like I must experience every facet of this emotion. It fills my every thought, my every menial second. Sometimes I think I love someone, sometimes I know I do, sometimes I dream about loving someone to my own complete and total destruction. Sometimes I think someone might be okay to love, or to feign love with, for a while. But only a while, because forever is too large a concept in this day and age. Life, to me, has two certainties: death and love. And isn’t it the ideal, the absolute necessity for most, that at the very tail end of this life you have lived, at the end of your eternity that love is with you? And that it has been with you for the entirety of your days prior to this moment? I feel like everyone deserves this. I feel like this is absolutely achievable and existent to most people on this faltering earth. Unless of course you’re Voldemort....although I’m sure he was loved in some way by those Death Eaters of his. If you think about it, even Hitler had a mistress. I’m sure she loved him. So you see, even the more horrid people you could dream of have, will have or have had love in some way shape or form. And even though it may not always be enough, it certainly matters. Love controls us; it shapes us; it moves us; it devastates us to our very cores; it makes us crazy; it consumes us; it wounds us; it makes us soar, it makes us crash; it makes us ridiculously and soul-crushingly hopeful, and also fully and completely hopeless; it fills every facet of our relationships with people. Whether we love them, or absolutely do not love them, it is all still a matter of love. Love is above all pure agony, and yet it is the driving force behind every human interaction. And what would life be without these things? What would life be like if not for love? Perhaps simple, but more likely dull and grey.