When the heart rules the head, disaster follows.

Images courtesy of Perdido Productions and Sony Pictures Classics.
Comparing love to magic isn’t exactly a unique idea, but it’s easy to see the truth in it. It does seem miraculous how you can be reduced to a stammering mess, how clear thinking can become muddled by the smell of another person’s cologne or the flash of a mischievous smile, how your courage disappears when it’s confronted with a face patiently waiting to hear how you feel about the person it belongs to.
But if you look at the trick for long enough, it’s easy for the wonder to vanish. You become so comfortable with the other person that the glossy, shiny pages of your story together start to look wrinkled and dog-eared. You see the person’s flaws so clearly that you wonder how you could have ignored them for so long. Probably one of you has farted in front of the other without bothering to cover it with a cough.
And when we reach that point, it’s also easy to believe that we never loved the other person in the first place. Because we love feeling the magic, and when it’s gone, we start to wonder if it was ever really there at all. And maybe we might start looking for a new source of magic, starting the whole delightful cycle all over again.






