Love 404?

  

Everyone experiences love in one form or another - atleast i would like to think so. The love of a parent, a sibling, our grandparents, maybe our pets or even from some stranger we encounter along life's path. We receive all this love freely and often oblivious to it, and yet wonder what is love? Am i in love? How would i know if i were?

We try to decode a language not meant for us mortals to be understood - a melody meant to just be heard not analysed. 

But how do we know when we're in love? Are there signs — telltale symptoms of this intoxicating symphony? Not quite. Love takes a different shape for each of us. It's molded by our stories, our scars, and the quiet hopes we carry. Like a freshly fired pot, it bears the cracks, stains, and fingerprints of the hearts we’ve broken, the ones that broke us, and the winding paths we've taken. And when it comes to romantic love — love shared with a partner — the question becomes even more elusive..

Is it fair to compare love? What if one person is more in love than the other? Maybe it doesn’t matter who loves more, as long as both are in love. That alone can be enough.

Love carries a fever. It makes you feel lighter, freer, as if some old burden has quietly lifted from your shoulders. It can be obsessive, jealous even. And then come the questions: Should love be unconditional? Can such a love even exist — one that doesn’t seek, only gives?

One thing seems clear: love is a free bird. It can’t grow inside a cage. You can’t bind something this magnificent with boundaries and rules. You have to let it happen. Let it consume you.

It’s like learning to float on your back for the first time. You lie still, surrendering to the water. You sink a little — and that frightens you — but once you let go, you find yourself drifting, weightless, in a state of peace you never expected.

We don’t fall in love as often as we hope, nor as easily as we’re led to believe. Sure, the songs say that a man can fall in love in the morning, be rejected by noon, and fall again by night. But those are just songs.

Maybe it’s the culture today, or the disillusionment that’s crept into love — the way we’ve begun to mythologize it, as if it were no longer real. Because love, real love, requires courage. It requires a kind of blind faith — the same that draws moths to a flame. You have to believe in your love. Trust in it. Because love arrives as suddenly as it disappears.

It’s like a ghost that possesses you. One day, you're no longer yourself, you're lighter, euphoric — and then just as suddenly, it’s gone. You return to your body, your routines, left with nothing but a dreamy memory of a time when everything was bright and even the water tasted sweet.

Lucky are those who remain possessed a lifetime.