Dammit, love is confounding.
It starts as romance, but then it won’t stay still.
Sometimes love collides with love in the messiest ways.
Love can sometimes dispose of sex completely.
When you want love to be just love, it wants to be duty or loyalty or faith.
Love can commandeer any part of your body.
Tests of love are always unannounced.
Love can sometimes seem like poison.
Absent love, there is only emptiness.
Love can attack anything, and do it relentlessly.
Love never has to explain itself.
If love is love, it always demands courage.
Genuine love is an infection with no known cure.
Dammit, love is confounding.
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