I am sure most of us at some point in our life have experienced the emptiness within us when we don’t receive reciprocation of love. The tragic poetries, the lament proses, the harrowing ballads, and the grisly parables, from anarchic times, have portrayed the feeling of unrequited love in many shades, making it a topic of interest amongst the ardent followers of Aeschylus. Life is a blurry gossamer and love adds many layers of complexities to it, decorating it with an inscrutable desire, which roams in the lanes of memories with a listless soul. And like any enigma, it imposes many questions and seeks many answers. But then isn’t love beyond such trivial impositions? Why do we need to compare intensities, measure reciprocation, and define boundaries? Love should be limitless. Love should be beyond reasoning. Love should be the epitome of insanity. And love should remain abstruse. In the end, if you love someone deeply, let all rationality evade, love like there is no tomorrow, surrender your soul, and if your love is real, and if it can stand the test of time, the universe will for sure reciprocate your love.
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