Dear Heero
Yesterday you asked me to tell you about love. All I can do, I'm afraid, is write down a few random phrases, about how I think it feels to me. It's difficult to describe, and this letter probably won't help either of us, but I'll try.
Love is everything and nothing to a person, it feels so right and so wrong, pure and good and sinful, it's like nothing but it's everything, your whole world underneath what you see and do and even think every day. When you're in love, you want to laugh and sing and shout because you're so happy, but you want to cry, but you'd be glad to cry because you're in love. Love is like hope and despair all mixed up until they're a drug, and you're addicted. Love is selfish, yet giving in so being - you think you'd do anything for that person, anything for the one you love, you'd do anything to help them, to keep them from pain and to make them happy but really, you'd do anything to have them, to be with them in any way possible.
Love spins you around, it spins everything round, it makes sadness beautiful and happiness empty, it makes you look at the world and realise it's not the same any more, it probably never was, but even if it wasn't even there it wouldn't make any difference any more. Love can make you crazy, it makes you do crazy stuff you wouldn't ever do, it makes you show, if you don't hide it, this side of yourself, a side that's not really you, but maybe it's the only real you.
That sounds all messed up, I'm sorry I couldn't make more sense - but perhaps it will only make any sense if you know that there is no sense to be made of love.
Love is just…love is what I feel for you Heero. I love you but I can't explain love. I can't tell you what love is. Maybe one day you'll know because of me. Perhaps one day I can show you.
from Duo