romantic love is a cheap drug
This summer I’ve been on a romantic love binge (the sincerity of which we must put under scrutiny — the way I seamlessly switched them out like remuda, as though it didn’t matter who as long as the basic profile was acceptable)
I played the game with full intensity but I always knew that I could seem to care so much precisely because I didn’t. Romantic love is a cheap drug (even surfing or playing music costs something, you’d need a board or an instrument), a dopamine circuit, predictable even in its unpredictability. Sometimes it’s fun to take drugs, just as it’s sometimes fun to play with fireworks. But you wouldn’t set off fireworks anywhere delicate.
Once, when I really loved, I tried to transform us into compassion and care and sustainability. I kept saying “I want to be your friend”, because of love and in service of love. I said it because it’s the summit.
It goes without saying that the neural activity of platonic love is not the same as that of romantic love, but the circuits actually suppress each other
How readily romantic love turns to hate if not reciprocated.
Not even hell is so fiery