When does love become a burden? I normally do not write about love. It is a bittersweet choice. I am so “in love” with the thought of something so intangible, so abstract… ethereal. Something I feel in my gut… the butterflies… I long for it. Yet I claim it does not exist. People I know find me a bit pessimistic. I consider it a choice. Be real, honest… why put hope into something that does not exist in the romanticized way… A love so profound its essence is perfect… Why try to explain the void… there will always be some kind of a void…
This is the sadness I feel about love. I have that same sadness for love of my family. After my father passed away I felt a void. It is there with me… We were close but only so for a short time. We became friends during the later part of his life.
A sadness can be so pure it can be mistaken for love. Love can be so deep… it can be mistaken for sorrow… So I go back to my start… When does love become a burden? Must we be strong of heart or of mind? Can we exist to be torn in two? As the Soul and the Mind? This delicate thing which though immaterial can rage wars, build empires, and shatter lives… Love can bring nirvana, yet cause insanity… Love.
“Love to faults is always blind, always is to joy inclined. Lawless, winged, and unconfined, and breaks all chains from every mind.”