What is love? Is it simply a choice? Or is it simply a feeling? Perhaps it is neither. Perhaps it is both. Is the love for family different than the love for a significant other? In some ways yes, in some ways no. Society compels us to love our families, but it doesn’t compel us to love every boy we meet. Or maybe it does. We don’t choose to love our families at first, but as the road gets tougher, maybe we do. We do seem to choose which boys to love though. Nobody falls in love with every boy they meet, and if they do, it is not real, because love is more special than that. But maybe it isn’t. So in this sense, I believe that love is a choice. But it is also a feeling, an emotion. It doesn’t always happen when it is supposed to, and sometimes it cannot be stopped. Love is just a big fat maybe. Maybe it is a feeling, maybe it is a choice. Maybe it will last. Maybe it won’t. Maybe it is real. Maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m a naive romantic. Maybe I’m a naïve cynic. And maybe I have no idea about anything that I am talking about. Because love is like that too. I do know though that nobody knows everything about love, for it is both a mystery and an adventure.



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