I also wish the idea of love didnt make me sick. Sick in the way the stomach turns over and the imaginary bile reaches the back of your throat. It shouldn’t have such a visceral reaction to such an abstract, hard to place, blanketing emotion-instinctual hybrid. But I guess it’s just like, idk, substantiated under past endurance? I really do not know how to trust someone being someone so confusingly put-together, but is it only because of the resulting over-thought-process that love starting out is simple attraction? But to reject the complexity of emotion and instinct is to simplify the resulting turmoil I find myself in.
Even if someone lives under the hypervigilant watch of trust and becomes one that isn’t worried about by the anxious white blood cells that attack any perceived danger, what if that person dies? Or leaves? To say heartbreak is another feeling meant to be savored is self-harm for the soul, but it is the only truth left behind by something great so forcefully ripped asunder that it leaves a hole so big you may never live to see it filled.