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Unexpected // Overwhelming


Tell me what you love, and I will tell you who you are.




She already knew that love was beautiful, and precious.

After all, it was for that very reason that she asked to become a very small particle of Love, in the Souls of Everyone: because everyone was precious, all the people, were they not? And their feelings, their emotions, their warmth: if she could share in it, if she could support it - yes, she truly Wished to be reborn into such an existence.




Love was, she's learned through days, months, ages, more overwhelming then she ever thought. It was burning, freezing, shooting itself into the distance, hiding beneath some self-made pillars; sometimes quiet, sometimes shouting for joy, sometimes screaming in a suffering so unbearable that for a second, she wondered if love was truly worth such tragic pain.



More than she asssumed.

When she was only her single self, not thrown, by her own Wish, into the millions of chests, she thought love was a feeling. An emotion.

She wasn't exactly wrong, but she had been ignorant, so ignorant; she could admit it now. Love was more than a Feeling. So much more.

Love was in a wife who was cooking her husband's meal while feeling no positive emotions for him at the moment at all. The wife only telling herself and Eve I love that bastard, I love that bastard, I love that bastard, so I'll cook for him, anyway. and strangely enough, unlike what Eve first assumed, the wife wasn't lying at all. She truly loved her husband, emotions or not.

Love was in a small boy giving his little sister his favourite toy Hawkzile while gritting his teeth and wishing he didn't have to, but damn he loved her and couldn't bear to see her cry so much out of envy, even if he also hated her at the particular moment.


Love was somebody dying for somebody else while truly wanting to live.


Love was somebody else living for somebody else while truly wanting to die.


It was overwhelming. It was complicated. It was the simplest thing.





Love was, she had learnt, during minutes, hours, years, ages, millenias... love was a Decision. An Action. A Wish. A feeling, too, but that mattered a bit less, on the whole.



She had known that Love was Beautiful. However, she's come to learn that it was more Beautiful than she could have ever imagined.



And so, sometimes, across countless fragments, she mused:

Would he come to learn this, too? He whom my Father thought 'Perfect': and how far had he been from the truth!!

Nothing was perfect, ever, but the closest thing to perfection is, I know now, Love.

Verloren... do you know Love? If not, please, hurry up and meet.


I want to share. It's too overwhelming, otherwise. Please.