Love is crazy.
To fall in love is an act of insanity. We'll bleed for it, pine for it, define ourselves by it, kill and die, lie cheat and steal...We will perform amazing and beautiful acts of kindness...We will exhibit the vast range of human behavior, from loathsome to lovely.
All just for that one little human sensation we call love.
The really amazing thing about love, is that regardless of it's outcome, longevity, or context, to have known it is a blessing.
Love can be consuming in a manner comparable only to fear...
I mean, it's crazy right?
We keep going back for more because it is the potential for heartache that makes love so precious. Love in all its forms. Not just the insanity that is being in love, but even the way love makes your heart rise and ache at the same time on a sunny morning. Just from love of the morning.
Love is that consuming fucking yearning in your heart, for a person, a moment, a ray of sunshine in the middle of winter, a good book by a warm fire, the sinking in your heart when something you love dies.
It is the one emotion that can both encompass and create all other feelings. It is messy and illogical, sometimes it crawls out from beneath the filth covered in blood, other times it's like a guiding light towards home.
Love is wanting to wake up every morning, it is crazy and imperfect and messy. Just like humanity. And as such, what better way to express ourselves than with the love of...What we love.
It's still crazy though. Love is as simple as the dirt beneath our feet and as infinitely complicated as the human mind. Love is the pain of loss, and the currency with which we count our life's costs.