Love, real love, makes absolutely no sense.
How sensible can it be that this one person,
one in seven billion, can just show up out of ******* nowhere,
shatter everything you believe in,
change your entire outlook on life,
and reduce you to a child, just by existing?
How can this one person render everything before them meaningless,
and then resurrect you into the holiest,
happiest time of your life?
Your food tastes better,
music sounds sweeter,
and every minute with them feels like a dream world
on another planet...
How can that be?
And worse, how is it when they're gone,
the very color seems to be ****** from the Earth?
Where the Hell is the science to that?
How can that make sense?
Maybe that's why it's so addictive, maybe that's why it hurts so much,
because it defies the very fabric of reality,
it spits in the faces of scientific reason,
it rewrites the books of psychology.
Maybe that's why whether we feel it or not,
we are fascinated by it.
No matter how many religions are debunked,
no matter how many urban legends are solved,
or how many magic tricks are explained,
there is still absolutely no control over true love.
You can't protect, control, or fight it.
Love is as fulfilling as it is violating.
Love is a pill that takes all your pain away,
but comes with so many side effects,
you wonder if it really works.
Love is a roulette wheel where anything red is jackpot,
but anything black is death,
and it spins everyday.
Love will extend your life.
Love will **** you early.
Love is War.
War is a drug.