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Love. It is a profound, powerful element of life and sought after as much as it is expressed. It is also oftentimes mistaken for infatuation, or what I like to term: bad, mad love.

Listen to this while reading the rest:

Like Flash Rosenberg, I overdo too. I recently told someone I liked that I couldn’t do ‘maybe’. We’d spent many hours talking about philosophy, love, the human condition, our childhoods, our values… but in the end, certain elements of Alain De Botton’s Essays in Love were playing out in real time. Perhaps the only thing on the table was a half-eaten carrot cake and two cups of tea after all.

Unlike the protagonist, I haven’t tried to overdose on Vitamin C effervescents. I have binge listened to Father John Misty, Cigarettes After Sex and Wavves. I’ve danced at Blah Blah Bar till the early hours of the morning with friends, and I’ve accepted the wisdom of insecurity- that neither love nor security will save me.

I then woke up with new resolve: I emailed DARG about volunteering because spending more time with fluffy animals will be good for the soul. I scoured for hiking itineraries and I decided to be by myself for a bit.

What’s there to learn?

Slow down, Rebecca, slow down. Why the rush? Being heedlessly romantic leads to bad, mad love. Being friends with wolves is better.