Love is not infatuation. That's easy. We wish it were easy.
We do dumb things for it. Bored if we don't grab it or get it in return. Acceptance and joy come from it. It is destructive. Many have died in the name of it. Many have killed in the name of it. And all can be deceitful.
No one is ever completely satisfied or filled to the brim with it. You can be reminded of it. Here or there. Between people. It may not be romantic. Just pained love between two desperate, angry, lonely people. Love between friends. Between strangers. It all strikes the chord of feeling something.
Anything.
If you feel nothing, you are not wrong. You simply are protecting yourself from the pain. Love is pain. Sacrifice and familiarity breeds contempt. Can you survive without, or within.
I took a long time from it. And still enjoy my solitude. Perhaps it was watching from afar as people found one another as time ticked by.
Must learn to embrace the solitude. Love in solitude.
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