Another one about love
Hope my parents don’t read this
Another one — DJ Khaled
This one is not about how amazing love feels, but how I feel in love at times, because I have a bit of baggage, in love, you carry each other’s baggage, and hopefully, if it all works well, you will take it and travel abroad to go backpacking in Italy — my fantasy.
I am always scared when I’m not surrounded by the person I love.
I feel like love is an old photograph of us, and the cracks in the photographs are becoming bigger and bigger and the photo will tear, but even before it happens, I am thinking about how it’ll be before it ends, how I’ll be, just as a single portrait, with a broken end.
Any doubt my love, and I am scared that it’ll turn out to be a crack that just erases the whole photo, and with it, us.
Right now, love for me, is reassuring myself that those cracks in the photo tell me how far me and her have come, how even due to the fights and arguments, we stuck together, how even if the photo broke, I would stick it back together with brown tapes of sorry’s and apologies, and forehead kisses.
But this love, it’s a weird feeling, I feel all this when I am not with her, but the moment I am, the creases and cracks in the photos appear to vanish magically, and I see myself backpacking in Europe with her.
Maybe it’s magic, maybe it’s love, maybe it’s her.
Maybe she has pure blood, and I’m a mugal.
This made me realise, that love is just a feeling, it comes and goes, just like any feeling.
When you feel love, you feel it on your lips, and you see it in her eyes, but when you look at her eyes, you can’t decide if it’s love you are drunk on or her nazaar.
But, being in love is this amalgam of so many feelings I can’t even decide which to write down, which not to, because I don’t think I have felt all of them.
This means love won’t always be a bed of roses, hell, even roses have thorns in them, you don’t think your love will??
In relationships, the bag you carry your baggage in is badly made. It has holes on the side, the zip is broken, and it’s made by the perverted local tailor in your area.
So you are bound to make your baggage fall which is made up of most things that Freud got right about about your relationship with your parents and trust.
All this is bound to fall on the other person and affect them adversely, making them question everything.
All you can do is tell them, and hope for the best that even with a broken zip they will understand and sympathize with you, to carry your bag all the way to Italy.
Thank you and have a nice day.
