If we keep expecting that love is bestowed upon us, that we will one day bump into someone and fall into all-consuming love that will blind us and eat us from within but we will love it because it’s only the most beautiful feeling ever, with just a dash of craziness that people commonly describe as butterflies, I don’t think we’ll ever be happy.
I mean this because these are feelings, they are moments encased in time. They exist, no doubt, but they are not a state of being.
People are so often looking for this condition that they miss it when it comes.
They come, they go.
I’ve loved with every fiber of my being. I’ve felt so in love with a person that my heart was akin to flooding with joy at the mere existence of this person. But that doesn’t mean there is no doubt, no murmurings, no wondering if all this is enough. This doesn’t mean there are no days where I wonder why he’s the way he is, why he isn’t more the way I want him to be, why he wouldn’t love me the way I want him to. There are days where I am genuinely afraid. There are days where I ask myself what would happen if I let it all go again.
But on all these days, I still love him.
It’s not that love has no space for doubt and fears. Love is what happens when you let the doubt in, negotiate it in your mind, let it sit with you, and still have faith.