With no ethic. I find, after much influence, living is to love and without love, we aren't living. Without love, life is monotonous with only sparks that come from moments where smiles are put on our faces and, or big amounts of dissatisfaction that causes us be upset. I'm finding for love. Big time love that comes and never leaves. I seek for love in the physical form. I am in my alone time. My alone time where I begin to lose myself in all my thoughts and questions, even raising more questions on existence of being. To challenge the heart with all it is capable of with love. For we know, love brings despair. Who I wonder, in times coming, shall sweep me off my feet, my ground, my world, my routine, my knowing, into a joint world where my feet shall then be placed in such a way one foot in mine, and one in the other. When one feels the negative form of love betrayed, the pain is felt in the chest. Could all the ideas provided by the media and society cause us to feel it in the chest, close to the heart? I doubt so. I feel that the origin of pain felt in that specific area comes from the pain which is actually felt there! The discomfort, the diaphragm wrenching feeling, the nausea, the suction. Such pain is one so great and mysterious it cannot be felt and inflicted on the physical. Many failures in love had caused people hurting their bodies in order to feel a greater pain than what's felt inside, so what's felt inside could be felt less. But they soon come to learn that what's inside absorbs outside pain, causing unimaginable amounts of hurt. Yet, living with the pain is living. For living is loving. No love, no life.
