What is love?

What is love? Is it a feeling? Or only a habit? The fear of starting something new, the fear of saying goodbye to our past? Incapacity of forgetting? Is it nourished by chemistry, by memories, by the colour of the other’s eyes, by their narcotic scents, by their voices that make your spine vibrate, by their smiles that make your bones melt? Is it only illusion? Does it live only in our imagination? Is it produced by hormones, by our own mind to prevent ourselves from loneliness? Did men make it up just to make their lives more exciting, more different from those of animals? When does it leave? Does it die due to distance, time, change? Can it be killed by erasing memories? Or is that not enough to get someone out of your cells? Why can’t we decide on the target person, the length, the intensity of our love? And if we hate being out of control, why are we starving for being loved? How can a simple look, a hug, a touch, a kiss make our blood boil? Why do we need it so much, when it’s so temporary? When we know it’ll hurt so much as if someone had ripped out our hearts? Why do we fall in love if we know it comes to an end one way or another, why do we get our souls naked, why do we risk getting broken? Is it so delightful to match the little pieces over and over, to try to make it seem whole again, just so that someone else could smash it again? And where does it reside? Does love really hide in our hearts? Then why doesn’t it leave when the heart stops beating? Why don’t we feel relieved when our blood freezes in our veins, when our hearts get petrified, when we can’t even breathe? Shouldn’t it be the moment of breaking free, when love isn’t pulsating inside you anymore, when it stops poisoning your body? Shouldn’t it be the most peaceful moment of our lives? Why does it still hurt so much? Why if your heart isn’t pumping pain into your limbs? Would heart be not home for this devastating, this killing feeling? Is it in our mind? Is it fed simply by senses? Could we kill love if we could make ourselves blind, deaf, ignorant to scents and tastes at the same time? If we could shut out every impression of the outside world? Would it be gone if we left our bodies? Or would it follow us to heaven, haunt us even in hell? Where can we hide from love, from the one we love, from ourselves? Would it ever leave us alone? Or the inscription ‘Rest in Peace’ doesn’t include getting rid of our human feelings? What makes us human? Our body, our language, the way we think, our morality? If we manage to forget how to love, will we not be human anymore? Would we be wandering around the world without a soul, with an empty hole where our hearts used to be, without any thoughts? Would we get burnt in the sunlight? Would we feel hunger for other people’s blood, the home of love of those who still have feelings? Would we want to get back what made us human, the ability to love, the possibility of falling to pieces? Do we keep craving for something that we can never have? Will this vicious circle never end? Not even after our death thanks to reincarnation? Why can’t we choose whether to love or hate, whether to rebirth or not? Who asked God to send us to this earthly hell of rampaging feelings? Who gave him the right to decide on our lives? And if I’m angry at him, why am I praying to him to stop the furious hurricane I have got into? Could this tornado, which calms down sometimes and transforms into a gentle breeze, and then comes to take over me again, to bring colours into my grey world.. be love?