Questioning Emotions

What is ‘love’?

Haddaway asked this question but remained strictly in the discourse of begging not to be hurt again.

That four-letter word that brings on more than just a singular entity in the realm of emotions.

Never generally cut down to something simple and pure.

Always complicated and never replicated from being to being.

What is ‘love’?

Falling “in love”, “out of love”, “out of touch”, “in touch”, soulful, soulless, but never truly defining what love is.

Piglet asked Pooh how do you spell ‘love’, and Pooh replies “You can’t spell it, you feel it”.

But what is ‘love’, I would cry.

Can this emotion truly be described? Lovers will sit dumbfounded by the fact that although they can gush and revel in each others feelings for each other they cannot explain it to a passerby of what they are feeling but know they are feeling the same way.


Self –




What kind of love is this? One that has endless paths and fewer ends. One that allows you to follow and experiment yet still remain to its truest form of uncertainty and allow you to continue to feel certain that every step you take is the right one.

~Unfinished, Unedited poem by Krys “What is Love”

Although the truest forms of what love is, it’s still generally defined as a mystery. I was on the phone with a really good friend of mine, Mag, and we jokingly made an agreement that if neither of us were married within a few years, or found suitable partners to remain committed to, we would marry each other. We never put this in writing, or had the thought notarized, but almost like an arranged marriage for the hopeless.

He once told me, practically insisted, he and I would make beautiful babies. Oh goodness, the thought of bearing children, it’s terrifying. Yet when you want children, it’s a thought that I must’ve thought of at least once.

If you hadn’t read my reflection on my friendship with Mag, here’s the post (I’ll wait while you pop over and read it…)

– Browses bookshelves –

Welcome back, alright you read! So, needless to say, Mag and I are close. We’ve never been intimate and since I grew out of my awkward sixteen-year-old-self phase, and became a more “refined” beauty, I actually laugh at this statement, Mag has become… infatuated would be too strong a word and almost demoralizing the entirety of what he feels for me… possessive? Anyhow, although I am treated with nothing but respect we remain strictly on the grounds of I am like a sister to him. Which sounds controversial in the sight of if we were to marry, wouldn’t that be incest?

I laugh, since obviously we aren’t blood, and the idea is strictly hypothetical. I do not admonish the idea, it’s always good to have a backup, although most people wouldn’t usually have one planned out so far ahead. It’s almost like the arranged marriage you never thought you’d have, yet wind up having one. There’s a small part of me that is hoping things are never resorted to the outcome of marrying him. Not because I don’t want to but because it would be ill-fated.

I suppose at this point you’re probably wondering why I would insert such a dissertation when I wrote about the potentials of a single-worded emotion. Fear not! I have the answer. Mag dropped the three-word-phrase at the end of our, once again, never ending conversation. It threw me off completely that I wound up saying it back. Although when I said it, it was more of a way you say it in passing to your distant relative or sibling. But after catching myself I wound up texting him and asking how long he had been planning on dropping such a phrase into our conversation. He replied that it came out so naturally.

There’s a part of me that kicks myself for thinking I could joke around with him about us being married to one another, but another part of me worries that he is just seeing other women to fill in his time. Knowingly that he is waiting for me to realize that I will go to him in the end. This concept strikes fear, as I do not want him to think that I am tugging on heartstrings or intentionally being his friend to hurt him of such a concept.

It was all in jest, wasn’t it?

Perhaps this is where I should sign off with a question to you my faithful readers:

Have you ever made a commitment of marriage or even-child bearing to another person although never made them the for all, end-all? Have you ever made an arrangement to somebody, on hypothetical grounds, without truly knowing whether you’d have to play it all out?

Love to hear your thoughts!

– Nym


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