Do we know that love is forever? Do we know what that love is?

In the column “From you” we add another article by Claudia. However, contrary to her opinion, we believe that love is forever and that we find it everywhere. What do you say?


Love… What is love? What is this feeling? How much power, how much self-control, how much will… always something new… spins you, twists you, twists you, drags you through the mud, gives you wings, lifts you up, lowers you…


Do you love You have butterflies in your stomach, your legs soften, you blush, you rarely blink… absent and affected… You miss it, only the thought makes you hot, you tremble at any gesture, look, sms, phone call… You fell in love !!! And then the circus starts… he doesn’t want it anymore… or she doesn’t want it anymore… or he plays with you… or he steps on you, or he doesn’t recognize how he feels… or he recognizes too quickly what he feels… you panic sometimes in your own thoughts, you become a writer, rather a screenwriter… you invent lines and endings… you build illusions… dreams…… tiring this love… It is sold in small doses and is already a drug of human existence.


We love because we like it, we love to feel butterflies, we love to suffer, we love out of boredom, we love out of everything, everyone looks Welsh or smiles beautifully, anyone we think fits a well-established profile in mind our… profile that varies from person to person, we love because we are theoretically cerebral animals and made to build feelings and share them… Love is actually something generated by the brain, not even the soul. We settle so heavily on a physical attraction, which gradually becomes a small obsession, then a bigger obsession, then a huge obsession.


We love because we don’t like to be alone, out of selfishness… of course! Because, we say, we like to share what we have with the other… both good and bad until death do us part… and after a year or two of marriage you hear “I can’t stand you anymore!”, “Go to the mother- yours! ”,“ who made me marry you? ” and so on… love is gone, there are nerves on bread and canned stress and look – that’s how all the charm goes… and the butterflies in your stomach turn into moths that bite you and you get nervous every day… everything goes!


We build things in two just because that’s the law of mankind’s ancestors… love, multiply, and fill the earth! You can’t walk on the street without seeing love… you see it in the eyes of the doorman on the corner of the street, you see it in the eyes of the subway tax collector, in the eyes of the ratb controller… really?


Where, I see it too… Love is gone… we love out of interest, we love out of various pathetic excuses like… how good it is că how bad it would be if it weren’t… we love only as an idea… as the feeling itself is illusion apparently swallowed by naive people… we love to feel “in line with the world”, that is.


Eminescu went… the poor man… it’s good that he died young… to have lived among us today was IT-st… or cut his veins… bohemians are considered retarded in this world of 2 lei… To feel beautiful is already an experience pathetic and sentimental-dramatic… to declare in eighties a bohemian and innocent love… oh my Gooood… are you retarded?


Be sure, the first question is “did you have sex?”… Not the classic question… “do you love him / her?” I haven’t believed in Handsome Boy for a long time… I haven’t believed in fairy tales for a long time… with a happy ending… I haven’t loved to be loved for a long time… and that’s because I know that I don’t even know if my love will be shared… neither appreciated… nor consumed in a lethargic-romantic way (Eminescu style…), I haven’t believed in beautiful words for a long time… That one said well ‘… (I think he was drunk)… that whoever roasts soup… blows and -in yogurt… I’m afraid of this perverse and evil world… I’m afraid of this society… of bad people… with a soul locked in their own sick passions and dirty interests… you can’t be natural without hearing “this has to be give it… ”, or“ this kind of eats her ”, or…“ a turn would go by ”… To sit and calculate every gesture gest every movement, every startle or emotion or gesture, not to overtake the horse, not to interpret, don’t play too much… that he has a perverse idea and who knows how he reacts because you feel like the last…


I declare myself defeated! I’m tired of looking for… and actually not looking for anything… because I just notice and it hurts! Dear ones… those who know what that love is… I don’t know what it is anymore…


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