falling

Convention holds that love bears some kind of metaphorical resemblance to falling: out of control, maybe, or crushing, sinking, something like that.

I’ve gone a long time thinking I maybe had a part missing or broken, because I’ve never experienced anything like falling when it comes to another person. People close to me talk about being in love, too, as if it’s another form of insanity or possession. It makes you do things, right? As though your actions aren’t your own, but some parasite’s. Well, as far as I know – though I doubt whoever might be researching this would call me right away, there’s no love parasite. There could be one, and maybe I’ve never ingested it. Anyhow. Let’s assume this idea is not the result of parasite evolution, and is purely figurative.

I don’t think I have a problem after all. No, I haven’t seen any kind of light. I still have absolutely no falling feelings, and rarely feel anything but fairly in touch with all my faculties. I’m just not bothered by it. There’s nothing wrong with the conventional notions; I have different ideas, and that’s pretty neat.