Is love just a feeling? This rush of dizziness, melting but somehow rising up like the tide at the same time. I sense it all the time, shadowing me in my movements. The aura is astounding. But part of me thinks that love’s not the disease, but the symptom of something much bigger. Life, maybe.

Or is love a person? If he is, then I’d like to meet him. Does he glide through the air, picking each and every one of us to love who we do at random? Or does he do it with precautious planning, working by a system he has used for centuries? Maybe love’s a she, but I can never be sure. Love is always just disappearing from my sight, going onto the next patient as easily as breathing.

Whatever it is, love is something you can’t see. But I know that even without the power or sight I know that it is beautiful. Even if we closed our eyes, we wouldn’t feel the difference. And that is the thing about love.