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Being in Love

Being in Love is a kind of temporary madness; much like a tornado, it swirls and builds in intensity and then subsides. When this intensity fades and the storm has passed, you survey the terrain, realizing that this is the person who stood with you through it all. You feel compelled to decide whether your souls are now so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.

Being in Love

Being in Love is a kind of temporary madness; much like a tornado, it swirls and builds in intensity and then subsides. When this intensity fades and the storm has passed, you survey the terrain, realizing that this is the person who stood with you through it all. You feel compelled to decide whether your souls are now so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Love is not breathlessness; it is not excitement; it is not the assertion of eternal passion. Yes, those are all components of what it feels like when you are “in love,” but Love itself is what is left over when the storm of “being in love” has blown over.