Here is what I know of love: it makes fools of all of us.
We
can be perfectly rational creatures. We act with sense, with decorum, with
measured steps. That is, we normally act
that way. But love: it makes us irrational. We find ourselves doing things. Ridiculous things. We cannot control the
way our thoughts ever circle. We cannot control the surge of feelings in our
chest, our fingers, our stomach. We cannot stop the torrent of images that
dance behind our eyes as we try to sleep.
Love
renders the strongest of us utterly powerless.
I
do not try to excuse what I did.
For
no matter the cause, my actions were still my own.
I
would like to think that if I knew the consequences, I would have done
something differently. But that is impossible. We cannot know how things will
end. Things that are utterly tangled unweave themselves and work out for the
best. And things that feel clean and true can end up staining us deeper than
blood.
One
thing is clear to me now, now that everything has passed: I am not sure I would
have done anything differently. Even knowing how it would end. Because love is
not the elixir of fools because only fools drink it.
All
of us—
Every
blessed one—
All
of us can be lost to it.
