1. e4511287a1595a4833297b6b6bda4bac--blue-sky-photography-blue-sky-cloudsMy love is not real. It is too beautiful to be real. Someone said “it’s an enigma”. But no, it’s not that too.

The whole feeling is like a hangover-drowsy, confusing. It’s an addiction from the clutches of which you cannot escape, you don’t want to escape but you don’t want to stay either-it’s uncomfortable, you are not comforted when you need it, and when comforted your soul yearns to wander out like an aimless Bird in the azure sky-free, nothing to hold you back,but then, you need something to pull you back, something that will connect you with your roots.

Love connects people but then someone said love separates too.But when your love becomes your root, you become oblivious of the fact whether you reap happiness or anguish, you just want to experience it,go where it takes you like that Bird -shameless,heedless, incorrigible, boundless.And happy-even in sorrow ,even in pain as whatever he does he remains connected to his root. It’s his identity with which he will stride forward, but not hurriedly;with his own pace -relaxed, contented, having no liabilities , having no worries.

Well, love is confusing. The only mistake that God made was that we are supposed to entangle ourselves in a romantic relationship with a human- a different entity, bearing a different identity, whose root you might not be, might never want want to be.

But then society plays it’s grand customary part- you are liable, you have to stay, constricted , bounded, walled , you cannot escape.


Is that love?

I donot know.

Love is a confusion which I cannot disentangle.

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