My friend asked me, “Do you feel fulfilled?”

I thought what an interesting question.

What does that mean – to be fulfilled?

Shall we look to another for that or is it something you already have?

Love is a confusion.

Love is a hurricane.

Love is a shape shifting beast.

Love is everything and is nowhere when you’re looking

and screaming right at you when you’re not paying attention.

How do you know that you don’t just love for..

comfort..  companionship..  security..  habit..  to feel necessary or needed..

to feel entertained.. or not bored.. or to just feel loved?  

How do you know that what you feel is real?

or is it .. a feeling you’ve chosen for unrelated reasons?

What if you love in order to be loved?  

Do you love because you see something of yourself inside another?

Or do you love because you see something that you don’t possess?  

Some missing piece of the puzzle?

Sometimes it’s like a raging fire and burns too bright 

and other times it’s so subtle that you barely know its there.

I doubt the certainty of it all.  I doubt the strong and the soft.

But in the end I submit to the endless searching,

the confusion that I wish to be convinced with all.