Define love.
C’mon, what is it? I’m asking this because, all things considered, I just can’t define a single idea of love. It’s too big a word, too complicated a feeling, but at the same time it is something that we live with on a daily basis. Love, it is in our lives, but in so many different ways, working with so many different mechanisms, tasting in so many different flavours, and all of them basically equal at the same time, that sometimes I believe that, when they were inventing words, they just gave up trying to differentiate them and put them under a sound; let people sort stuff up later.
And we had to sort it out later whether we like it or not because, truly, love is, or can be in, pretty much in every action of our lives.
Both the evicted mother who stops eating until she starves to death so her child has something to put in his stomach and the boy who chooses not to stare down the loose strap shirt of a girl he adores to see her unbound breasts while she’s sleeping, even though he and she are just in the right position to have a rather glorious view (and, darn, those are some really nice breasts), act out of love, totally different iterations of love, but love still.
So, let’s say we can’t define love. It is something, everything, and nothing at the same time. f(x) = x/0. Not even Chuck Norris can pull that off (and those Chuck Norris jokes got old a long time ago, anyway).
What about what love makes us do?
Well, that’s just rephrasing the question. I just went through the undefined love in whatever action thing, so let’s just say that love can make us do anything. Once again, not much of an answer, but a sincere one at least. However, there might be a clue there. What about the anything? Can love really make us do anything? Not anything in a moral sense, for it has been proven time and time again through history that love can push us to do acts that are capable of putting a devil to shame (when a rather perverse version of love comes to town) or humbling angels. Rather, anything in a sense of capability.
Love, sheer love, how far can it push you?
How well can it fuel you?
I'll follow this up later, I need to sleep now.
And, yes, in an ideal world I wouldn't need to go over a moral dilemma about whether I should look at those breasts or not; I'd be doing something really kinky and funny and romantic and awesome at the same time with them and that girl I adore instead of writing as a madman on my Macbook, trying to ignore the savage combat of hormones and feelings maelstroming my mind. But I'm in Lima, my mind is thinking in Spanish, and all that I could ever be got lost in translation. Now, that's an idea for exploring the difference in attitudes depending on the language you operate in. Hello multiple personality syndrome. Grab a seat, take a cookie, there's free soda on the back.
