Love is patient. Love is kind. Says who? Of late, those damn Corinthians piss me off...
Love is fraught with stress. Love is not patient - love causes me hyper-anxiety. Love is mean. Love is selfish. Love talks too much. Love says cruel things when backed into a corner.
Love is the entire panorama - the full spectrum of human feelings - including the subconscious desire to make the object of your affection shed copious amounts of tears. Absolute love and honest disdain for the Beloved go hand and hand. Why? Because you need them. They hold power over you. They hold your heart in their hands, and then they casually toss it into an old cardboard box full of junk - rubber bands, old notebooks, twisty ties and buttons.
Can we love those who we need for our existence?
I want to live alone in a mansion with enough rooms to play hide and seek and not be found for hours. Except for a dog. Now there is some companionship that's reliable. Your dog doesn't turn up the television while you are talking to them. A dog at least tastes what you've cooked before turning up their nose, saying that they don't like it. They slather affection on you - somehow sensing you've had a bad day, no words necessary.
No words. Words fail me when I attempt to talk about love. Love always loses something in translation. You can't teach it. You can't dissect it or deconstruct it. You can't explain it.
I read Corinthians and they are talking about manners. Love is mean. Love is cruel. Love is beautiful. Love is tender. Love is a conundrum of epic proportions.
If you are speaking with the tongues of angels - then tell me the truth. All I hear is the sound of a banging gong.
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