I thought myself brave and again, I cowered. I question myself, is it cowardice, or rather out of wisdom that I now halt myself from... feeling unnecessarily. Does the heart always hold the utmost truth of our beings? Is it not prone to bouts of fickleness? Is love a thing to be possessed? A space to be occupied? A state of being?
They say love is selfless. How selfless, and for how long? The fact that I ask these questions at all. . .
Love is a burden for bearing, warmth for sharing and most of all, it is an offering. To love is to sacrifice all.
If it didn't hurt at some point, then it wasn't love. Being human, we disappoint, naturally.