When you love someone, you are flying with tens balloons in your hand. You will fly, higher... higher... until a certain height. You can see the anything differently from that new perspective. Clouds which become the ornaments of the blue sky as a flock of white sheep in the blue meadow that are delicately grazed by the tender hand of the unseen. The beautiful sun which exotically plays with its golden hair that is awake, and asleep in the horizon. Everything will be more beautiful than ever.
However, there will be a time that your hand will be tired, or the balloon will burst at certain height, and by that time, you will fall into the ground, the very same place where you start, but with the pain of falling.
The longer you hold the balloon, the higher you will fly. The higher you fly, the more pain you will feel when you fall. The longer you hold the balloon, the more pain you will get from the falling.
By loving, you will surely always feel pain, either it is at the beginning, in the middle, or at the end of the moment. There will always be a separation within the loving people, either it is in the form of divorcement, or death.
Finally, everyone you love, will merely be the one you used to love. At that time, there is no other things you can do, but to wait, waiting for the time to do his magnificent task, to make all the weary nostalgia evaporate to the sky, to be a vapor which later will fall as drizzle that will wash away your grief.
The love that makes you cry in happiness, is the same love that makes you cry in sadness...
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