Love is universal, yes, but we all have our own language of love. It is unique for each one of us, but it can also be similar to another. Sometimes we want to make something fit, although it doesn’t. We do that out of love of course, but in reality real, unconditional love never wants to change, it only accepts.
I have encountered many different languages of love. Some want to enjoy love, but not commit to it. There are also some that crave love in the same way that they crave freedom, but their perception of what is love and what is freedom is clouded. And then there are those who don’t fear solitude. They love intensely or not at all and want the same intensity from another. They speak the language of love that is one of myths and fairytales, the one that can only be lived by complete surrender. Here there is no question of freedom, because freedom is to truly place your soul in the hands of love. This is my kind of love language. It is rare and its extinction is on the horizon. If love for another does not penetrate each and every part of your life then it is conditional. To give yourself completely is truly honourable and the only way to experience love in its totality.
Through the ages, people have dissected the meaning of love like a corpse and put it back together in a way that is convenient. That is why today love is like a painting of Picasso. It may be a work of art even, but it is grotesque and unnatural. Fidelity has been dissected too and it roams the streets like a Frankenstein prostitute. There is no exclusivity in intimacy anymore, only a facade that everybody excepts, yet deep in the core everybody also despises. We all crave divine love, but very few of us are willing to sacrifice our ego for it. Today people say everybody is replaceable, but it shouldn’t be so, not when love is in question. Because if a loved one is replaceable then you are loving this person because of his or her traits and not their soul. For there can be only one soul and therefore it is irreplaceable.
It is said that at the end of our lives, we will not regret the things we did but the things we didn’t. The chances we didn’t take. Is there any risk more worth taking than love? And, is there any greater regret than not taking it? There is no sweetness like the one of love, for even its bitter pain tastes like honey.