Sometimes I wonder what it actually means to love. Is it biology? Is it souls? Is it instant? Is it developed?
To be honest, I don’t know if it’s a thing. It’s a category. This emotion we call love. Some fit into it and some don’t. It’s a construct that we have no base for other than “it happens”.
Are we so wired for pleasure seeking that we build ourselves cages of definition to better extract pleasure from the people we “love”? Or is it the art of caging ourselves to pour pleasure into someone else.
Ideally, it’s both. But why put so much value on it? How does loving and being loved make a person smile, when all it truly does is box you in by definition even more?
Is it more authentic to say “I love you”… or to just… be. With them. No definition. Existing in a nebulous space that both is and isnt yours, because you exist within it, and yet.
It doesn’t exist at all.