What is it about love that we crave it with such fierceness? That all acts committed under its name elicit at least a second, more forgiving, glance. Why is a crime of passion different from a cold blooded one. Why do we want it, and why do we change so much because of it when no other force would have moved us?
Why do we love? The hormones, the chemicals… why have they not been ‘evolved’ out of our system yet? Why do they exist?
Who besides poets and writers has ever appreciated it? What good does it do? Love, or the romantic notion of love, does it even exist?
There is no true love. Then why do we still look for it?
Why do we feel incomplete without it?
Why do we want it?
And how do I live without it?