Does it feel like life or work is too much of a burden? That you’re not getting out what you put in? That too much is expected of you? That somehow you ended up in a situation you never wanted—too much work, too little work, not enough time, not enough fun?
The endless search for the thing that will grant freedom. From circumstances, from events, from people, from feelings, from thoughts. Punctuated by waves of relief, when it looks like the thing has been found.
What does it mean to love you? Does it mean I am overwhelmed by your beauty? Does it suggest your personality holds me in thrall? Does my admiration for your achievements draw me to you? Is it your kindness, your wit and your love for me that capture me?