Love is desirable.
That tingly feeling you get when your hand meets his.
The way your stomach flutters when he passes you in the hallway.
It never fails to bring a smile to someone’s face.
It puts people together for the rest of time.
It’s something I like to think I’ve experienced first-hand.
It may be patient and kind, and all those other things.
But at the same time,
I hate love.
It drives people mad.
Love is blinding.
It’s hurtful, and dangerous.
Love is like handing someone a gun, having them point it at your heart, and trusting them to never pull the trigger.
It’s painstakingly beautiful, but also horrendously damaging.
Love is extremely hard.
And I hate you because I still love you.