Seesaw Of Love

A friend of mine is addicted to love.

When she is in love - it's euphoria. Fireworks. Roses. Drama. Tenderness. Passion. Life. Flow. It's butterflies and raindrops and jitters in her heart. It's sleepless nights. It's body aches. It's bodily pleasure. It's infatuation. It's deep. It's romantic. It's commitment. It's creation. It's forever. It's surrender.
When she is not - it's heartbreak. Devastation. Loneliness. Withdraws. Obsession. Search. It's anger. It's rage. Brutal lonely rage. It's tears on her pillow. Her one singular pillow. It's begging. Pleading. Confessing. Aching. It's pain. It's pain. It's pain.

I tell my friend - if you feel so high, you can soon feel so low.
Such is the cycle of life, like a seesaw we go up and down, up and down, and again... and again...
But addiction doesn't get healed with words.
Not words from a friend. And definitely not from a friend who doesn't believe in love. Or more so - that love doesn't believe in her.

I tell my friend to be grateful.
For when love appears, or when love chooses to disappear.
​Because not all of us have the capacity to feel. To get lost. To surrender. The ways she does.
To fall so low, one falls nowhere else but to a sickness, a disorder, an addiction.

So to all the love addicts out there: consider yourselves LUCKY. Consider yourselves BRAVE. Consider yourselves - LOVED.​