Passion is like fire. Bright, hot, requires a lot of air and... attention: everything around can suddenly catch fire.
Heart, mind, habits, common sense — everything goes into the firebox if it really flares up. 🔥

Love at its maximum: there are no instructions for self-destruction
Passion does not know how to live "on weekdays".
It needs:
– either "everything at once",
– or "oh, you don't love me anymore?!" — with scattered slippers and a broken vase of feelings. 😅

She comes without warning, like a guest without a text message,
but leaves...
Oh, she leaves loudly: with scenes, long songs on the playlist and an internal feeling as if you were squeezed like a lemon and forgot to put the peel back.

Why does it hurt so much?
Because passion is not just a feeling. It is an illusion that you have found your soulmate in this chaos.
When you look at a person and think: “Here it is - my space! My meaning! My universe in jeans!”

And then suddenly... boom.
The end.
And you are like: “Where are the instructions on how to put yourself back together?”

But you know what the most interesting thing is?
The more painful it is, the more alive you were at that moment.
These stories where “we were torn apart, but it was damn beautiful” then become favorite songs, stories around the campfire and internal markers: “I can feel. I am alive. And even passion is not in vain.”

So is it worth being afraid of passion?
No. It is worth being afraid of never feeling so much.
It is worth being afraid of going through life with a steady pulse, but with empty eyes.

It is better to let the heart break sometimes - but before that it really beats.
Too loud, too bright, too painful.
But that is life, right?