Love could be described as the greatest pleasure one could experience; a most liberating ordeal which allows the mind to escape to places it could not reach on its own. A sensation which drove Romeo and Juliet to end their own lives, driven to misery by the prospect of bearing life's burdens without one another. 

It is a most wonderous story, in the opinion of most. Not, of course, in a manner of intended sadism, but rather in the way that it makes a person believe true love could exist, and with it could come an unending euphoria, derived from the delight of spending eternity with the person you love. 

Until, of course, you realise that most will never find the person they love beyond all others, and are destined to live half- fulfilled lives of monotony, and scarce moments where they believe they are happy, but in reality are only just content. Naturally, the prospect seems daunting, but it is a fact we must accept, and move on from.

Potentially however, the worst scenario would be to find a person who makes you feel as though nobody on Earth could be happier than you. A person that takes the stars from the sky and puts them in the palm of your hand. Only for them to slip through the cracks between your fingers, and disappear from your world altogether, leaving you to grasp at distant memories. 

And pick up the pieces of what will have shattered.