We cry for love and because of love.

We crib yet crave for love.

Some say they are better alone yet they never alone. They simply wear the cold blanket of selfishness from around themselves.

Some say they have it but their eyes look for newness all around themselves.

We all love. Period. Some live for love, some die for it. Some don’t get it, some find it and loose it. Some don’t respect it, some pay too much credit in advance to it.

Love is a funny word. It makes us do funny things.

It gives us thrill when we have it. It has the power to heal wounds from past. It soothes the heart and almost acts like a cozy cover on sweet winter night.

But it also makes us angry and jealous.  It causes pain and hurt. It leaves our heart open with wounds which keeps searching for someone to heal it. It takes away our perspective and pushes it in dirt somewhere. It tarnishes the inner strength and that when one should remember the wise words of Friedrich Nietzsche –

                                             “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”

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