Musings about love at 12 a.m

Musings about love at 12 a.m


Yes, this crazy little thing called love.

I have no idea why I suddenly started thinking about the whole notion of love, seeing that I am neither in love nor want someone to love.


I was just letting my mind flit around useless things for a bit when I once again, remembered how curiously funny the concept of love is. We’re learning sexual reproduction in school, and everyone’s paying quite a bit of attention to the role of hormones in our body. What is love, if not a biological need to reproduce?

What is love, if not simply an influx of hormones?

What is love, if not simply a fulfilment our duty as humans, Homo sapiens, Animalia Chordata Mammalia Primates Hominidae Homo Sapiens?

All those love songs, describing that warm fuzzy feeling. Well, it’s our body’s chemical message to us that someone may be the right mate, isn’t it?

I mean, I’m not being skeptical or whatever. That feeling? Yea, I’ve felt it. Like only a thousand times.

That smile that makes your heart race. And sometimes your hands shake too.

That laughter that makes you say all sorts of funny things without really meaning to. Without harm, of course.

The face looming in your mind all day.

Waiting for someone to text back, counting the minutes, tracking one’s last seen.

Asking for advice, giggling, your friends being a total embarrassment?

Those strong arms. It must be warm in them. And brr… isn’t it freezing in here?

Being someone’s only, not belonging to someone, but to each other.

Living in a snow globe where it snows Christmas forever (or till the magic stops).

And I can only imagine myself feeling more:

The peach-shaped face you see staring back at you. Knowing, hey, you MADE this thing. Thing? Somebody.

Fingers intertwined, little protrusions so tiny you can’t fathom. How could anything be so tiny?

Laughter, more laughter, tiny feet.

Larger feet, more laughter, laughter.

A lioness clinging on to her cubs.

And let’s remember:

Those silver hairs that have never looked so black.

The soothing voice that calms you every time.

Someone you are completely at ease with.

Someone who doesn’t judge you.

That face… ageless.

So, let’s think. That warm fuzzy feeling– is it even real?

I just can’t get my head around it.

But really, is there a need to try?



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