Love Mug

Love, my friend, is a wonderfully, wonderfully, shitty thing. There have been, and indeed, are, numerous attempts to define love, but the truth is, there really is no set definition. * Love can mean completely different things to different people. * For some, it is the heady rush, the constant butterflies and silly smiles that grace one's face. *For others, love is the ever-present peace, the constant comfort and the assuring knowledge that the one you love is there. *For others still, it is the aching longing, wanting and mad fits of possessiveness, and even obssession that define love. One thing that we can be certain of, is that its a powerful thing. I hesitate to say emotion, as it seems much too callous and cold to describe love. *After all, love has sparked wars, and ended feuds, love has hurt, and love has healed, love has driven mankind to dizzying extremes, only to abruptly bring one back round. *Love is a fickle thing. *Love has healed. Love has comforted. Love has made people insanely, foolishly, abnormally euphoric. Love has the ability to send one on an indescribable high, and make everything and anything so much better. The world around you is much more colourful, the people, much more nicer, the conversations more insightful. *Love has also in shocking contrast, brought out the darker side in us all. People have murdered for love, stolen, hurt, abused. Countless have died on the fanciful longing of a foolish leader in love. Love makes us foolish, blind and ignorant. It makes us defy our own morals and ideals, just for the slightest sign of affection or approval. *Love can take many forms. There is the love between friends, the love for a god, the love of family, the love of an object, or the like, and of course, the love shared between two people in a relationship. *There is also unrequited love, which is the single most painful thing in the world. There is also lost love, by which I mean two true lovers who are somehow separated unjustly. Time may have passed, whole continents may separate them, perhaps even death itself, but this love never forgets and thus, still mournfully aches. *Love is foolhardy and irrational. It makes no logical sense, to like a person so much so, that you become completely ignorant of their faults and would do absolutely anything if the other would approve. *Love is a dangerous, dangerous thing. And too many have been hurt by it. *And so, one wonders, why do we still crave it? (The little *'s are like, the main points. This isnt much of an exact 'Love is this' type thing but obv. its hard to define it, so Im just writing down my ponderings. :)