Love: One Thing that Doesn't Fit Me

“I love you.”
Is it a falsifiable claim?
How many times have you said that in your life? Or have you not said it at all?

It’s like a morning cup of coffee, love is what it is.
It’s like drowning into the deep ocean. A breeze carrying winter snow. Encompassing the Universe at a blink of an eye. You feel as light as a cotton ball and suddenly, your shoulders sink into the darkest of all.
Have you not experienced that? Have you surely not? Tell me now.

You say love makes you move and eat and drink and learn and live and laugh.
Well.. it might or might not be there, still we talk about it , don’t we?… we talk about it, so dearly, and so lusciously.
The more we talk about it, the more it transcends, and in the end, we could no longer go back to where we started. We get lost. We get lost no matter what.

I want to recognize how it all started, simply for the sake of recognizing. Before I can falsify its shape and form and physicality, I need an empirical proof, in any case, an experiment of my own. Or your own. Or our own.

I just want you to know that love has all sorts of ephemeral qualities, whether you like it or not.
I want you to refute its many facets hidden under that well-rounded disguise.
I want you to come forward and be able to talk about it when we talk about it.
I want you to distinguish it not as a social norm or a labeling but as a thing which we talk over and over again that it becomes a social norm or a labeling.
I want you to embrace it as it is, whatever it is, or isn’t.
I want you to love nothing else but love only.

Because I love you.

And I talk about love.
What do I talk about when I talk about love?
What do we talk about when we talk about love?

It won’t matter, we get lost anyway.