The Mystery We Call Love

Love is a mysterious thing—it cannot be explained, it cannot be defined, it cannot be rationalized, it cannot be described.  Love is a feeling—it just is.  It’s just there.  Love has no timeframe.  It has no constraints.  Love is just present—it just shows up; sometimes unexpectedly, sometimes unknowingly, sometimes unwarranted, sometimes unmotivated.  Love doesn’t follow the rules; in fact, it often breaks them. 

Love doesn’t make sense.  It doesn’t make common sense, but somehow knows what’s best for you.  Love looks past the superficial—love doesn’t care what a person does, what a person looks like, what a person’s goals are, what a person’s background is.  Love only cares about who a person is today. ..how it feels about that person right now. 

Love cannot be summed up in words…so when my boyfriend asks me why I love him, it’s hard for me to answer, because it’s just a feeling—it’s what is.  It’s hard for me to describe to him the feeling of comfort I get when he’s lying next to me.  It’s hard for me to explain the feeling of loneliness when I haven’t seen or talked to him in a while.  It’s hard for me to explain the confidence I feel when I look at him. 

I can’t explain a feeling, which sometimes makes it hard to tell others why I like him so much or why we are still together, or why he is the man for me. 

Love doesn’t allow for why’s—only who’s.  Love chooses the person to attach itself to and tries not to let go.  Love finds the object of its affection and doesn’t have time to explain it, describe it, rationalize it, or define it.  So I’m going to stop trying. 

Who I choose to love is a mystery—let’s just leave it at that…