Why love?
Why love? What is love? They have pondered humanity for centuries Why love? Was it to confuse the mind and drive us all insane? Love makes a jester of us all and yet it is a role we run to. A role we are drawn to. Why are our hearts so magnetized to love? Why are we so inclined to love? Were grown this way? Were we born this way? Are we created this way? Is it written on our minds, our souls, our destinies? Are we destined to love? Was this formed from humanity’s need to create, or our nature to destroy? Perhaps both so that man may rip out his own heart and enjoy it. Why does love baffle us so? Why happiness, why sadness, why smiles why tears? Why do these emotions all combine to make love? Is it in the head, the hands the heart? Can we even grasp love? Is it felt? Is it held? Is it seen? Is it heard? Is it passed down, passed over, passed on? Are we destined to experience the perfect imperfection that is love? Are we even capable of love? And if we are not could that be why we use it so mistakenly?
Why love? Why me? Why him? Why her? Why them? Why torturous love? Why make loving so hard? Why do you torment me with his smile, dangled his words of love before me in agony while your return lingers out of reach? Why have you attacked me love? Tackled me with his scent, assaulted me with his kindness, and defeated me with his touch? You have done me wrong love, made me give more than of myself. You made me wish to sacrifice all I have so that I may have you returned. Do you wish only to make a fool of me once again? To pull me heart to pieces once more? Why love? And yet I still hope for more. I live for this pleasurable pain called love. Why do I follow you still? Why love? What is your desire of me? What have you destined me too? Why love?
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