The Holy Madness of Love

Love is Irony & Paradox.

It shrinks and expands us at the same time— all in one. It shrinks your world to such an extent that there is just One, Your One, who exists—the one you love. You crave them in every breath, every thought, every minute, and every second of your day. Your body, mind, and soul revolve around them like planets around the sun. They are your light and the air to your lungs, the blood in your veins, the gravity that doesn’t hold you down but rather propels you into fantasy realms.

But at the same time…

Love doesn’t stop with you. The exhilaration, contentment, and happiness, the unbearable lightness you feel, is so overwhelming and contagious that it spills. It overflows. It stains everything you touch, you see, you hear. It is like wine tipped over on silk sheets. You spread it to strangers through smiles, save animals and strays, even butterflies and moths. You want to tell the trees you love them. You live like everything around you is alive, and you give it the overflowing abundance that lies within you. Everything feels sacred because something scared is alive inside you now. Have you seen someone in love? Have you seen how they embody this paradox?

But let’s not be naive.

Love is also suicide. It is destructive, fierce, and knows no boundaries. It has the ability to drive you crazy, unravel you, piece by piece, stitch by stitch. Its boldness doesn’t ask for permission. It has the power to change you, to influence you, to fuck you over. It will kneel beside you with a smile, while it sharpens its blade. It moves in. It sets fire to everything neat, orderly, and yours.

Most likely, if you have loved, you have ended up in a situation where you had a bomb in your hand, and you gave the trigger to someone else. They have you hostage, they control you, but the worst part is you let them. Willingly. Smiling. Begging them to press it, because in that instant you are sure that they are thinking of you…even if it’s your destruction. The worst part is they don’t have to. The sheer possibility is enough to keep you theirs. To belong to your muse.

And yet…Obsession isn’t the word.

It is a shadow too small to contain your hunger. When you love, your nervous system rewires itself to accommodate their existence. You see them in every song, every cloud formation, every ripple, and every shadow that lurks in the corners. Have you gotten so obsessed with something so badly, you see it everywhere? Like your own life is pale in comparison to it? Greyscale, untextured—flat— compared to the world they pull you in with a glance, a smirk, their gaze. You let the clock tick even if it means flying off the handle, but dear god, “I’m obsessed” is such a huge understatement!

You ache. You wait. You bleed. You love.

Is that foolishness or is that divinity?

Love makes you live for someone other rather yourself. It is an end to your selfishness. It is the only thing that we can willingly ruin ourselves for. Maybe it is holy madness. For in its pure and raw form…love doesn’t demand…it devours. And you wrap yourself in a gold foil, a glaze in your eyes, a smile that never leaves your lips, and you hand yourself like a meal with a note that says “Here, have me all. I was never mine anyway.”.

Because the truth is, when you love like that—

You are no longer your own. You are a vessel, a flame, a chant that has echoed in someone else’s ribs. You become holy for you have joined the ranks of those who were devoured before you. They were those who set themselves ablaze for the godly devil that is love. You are sacred and yet ridiculous. You are understandable and yet beyond comprehension. You are regal and yet a fool.

But god, what a way to burn.

What a way to be alive.

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External Links

If you crave to feel the burn of love;

1. Listen to Hozier’s ‘Love Like Ghosts‘— a haunting, shadowy and romantic ode to love across lifetimes.
2. If you want a love that bites back and makes you bleed, and still begs for more, read ‘Love Is a Dog From Hell – Charles Bukowski (Book)

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