The object of your love, the other person, is not, necessarily, the best person you've met, but she means so much anyway. We weigh the importance of people in our lives, erratically, when we're in love. We are full of errors when we are in love. We couldn't care less.

Love always comes with despair. It is there, lingering in every kiss, in every touch. The most sensitive of us can feel it, just biding its time. We ignore it for the pleasure of the moment. Lonely people are most sensitive of love's despair or tragedy, they know that life couldn't be this good. To them, love is a vulgar trick.

People who've always had love or are more experienced in it, can handle it more gently. They're like regular drinkers of alcohol who knows which bottles to touch and not to touch. They know how many glasses before they become immobile. Love experts tend to take it for granted. They are alcohol drinkers who don't go for the alcohol in front of them as much as the high that it gives them. Slowly, the alcohol disappears and there's only the high. Love disappears and there's only the high. Love is alcohol.

Lonely people are so thirsty for love that the moment they become lucky and get it, it fills them up completely. Their bodies are so drained that they burst with the slightest pressure. Consequently, they die of love or they go mad. The primary question when love begins between two people is how to avoid its end. You expect a person, who's in love with you to like you absurdly. If you're also in love with that person, you demand that she loves you absurdly.

KenMitch