and when you're through with it, shook up and awakened, every fiber in your body would ache. as if you're addicted to their presence. your existence somehow becomes meaningless. everybody tells you that you're still alive, but you feel nothing like it. the sun would shine but you can only feel darkness seeping into your hollow soul. and deep down, you'd die the most painful death.
but if asked, upon resurrection, whether you'd do it again, going through the roller coaster of emotions, risking another depression lingers on your doorstep. with some unexplained reasons, you'd agree. maybe it's the elated feeling of belonging. maybe it's the unconditional acceptance. maybe it's the comfort of completion. maybe it's the dirty dishes. maybe you're insane.
whatever it is, it makes you have enough courage to risk dying again. leaving even the most logical personality dumbfounded with their own decisions. you'll probably torch yourself with fire, burn so bright, and fall to the ground as ashes. you don't care. you'll die harder.
a strange feeling, love is. really.