Lovely Questions

by Sofie Fowler

I found this in a notebook from a few years ago. I was drunk (you should see my handwriting), and appear to be moving through the angry with men, into the glum self doubt stages of my drunkenness.

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Do we love or do we become obsessed? Are we in love or are we in lust, infatuated? Have we found the one or is it just romance?

Do I love you or do I think I do? It’s all in my imagination, my brain chemistry. Everything I whisper to you is just neurones.

I feel, but is it real? Everything I want is the image of my beliefs. No difference. Is there a difference between us?

Is it love, or is it an obsession? Do we want what we seek? How to draw a line between need and want.

If I wanted to love, I would.