I love this terrible feeling,

Inside me something glowing,

Flareup to attain something,

 And it is  the days are passing…

I love this terrible feeling,

when I see her smiling,

For a sugary hugging kissing,

And maker her surprising…

 I love this terrible feeling,

For a gorgeous  bedding,

The twinkle we are creating,

The stormy heart is desiring…

 I love this terrible feeling,

Now I am really controlling,

The words that I am speaking,

Its my silence breaking…

I love this terrible feeling,

Don't know what I'm doing,

Inside me she is gleaming,

Its  just a terrible feeling …

People have a lot of misconceptions about what true love is. They believe it is an emotion. It isn't. They believe it is butterflies and spend the whole day obsessively thinking about that guy. That is incorrect. That is the concept of infatuation. It's entertaining, but it's not passion. 

Love is agony. And sacrifice, but when it's genuine and reciprocated, it's the most wonderful thing in the universe. Consider the possibility that somebody knows something about you. Any single item. Even the smallest information. Stuff you're ashamed of and don't want everyone to hear regarding. Consider messing up and even disappointing the guy. They have forgiven you. They are astute enough to read between the lines in a case and do not condemn you for it. They are devoted to you.

They also note the smallest details, such as the scar over your eye. You despise it, but they find it endearing. It's a part of who you are. When you're anxious, your eyes dart across the room. It's adorable. You know, the way you cry at a funeral. They are smitten by your heart. Your tenderness. They are aware of your being. That is the definition of love. It is being Clearly realized and accepted.

You are not required to be flawless for the one who loves you. They wouldn't really like you if you were fine. Your shortcomings are what make you special. Give them the space and permission to be as human as you are.

I've seen a lot of men fall in love with me. A few people who, I think, knew me and cared enough for me to truly appreciate me. That is, you would adore me. It's an incredible feeling that has made such an impact on me that I can now spot fake love even more quickly.

I once asked "Joe," as we'll call her, why he loved me. His response?

And you are stunning.

That was the end of my storey. That is not the definition of passion. He was smitten. Who needs someone who only "loves" them because of their appearance? Thank you so very much.