Is Love just an emotional orgasm

Is Love just an emotional orgasm

I recently was talking to a girlfriend who told me about her cheating boyfriend. A guy for whom she had sacrificed a lot and was madly in love with. She was hysterical on the phone and all I wanted to do was hug her tight and hit him hard. This is not the first time I have come across a situation like this. When I was living in a dorm one of my guy friends cut his veins when he found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him. Although I see a huge difference in both the situations, one common factor is cheating. I truly believe that what my guyfriend did involved a lot of inspiration from movies and a lot of show off. It had less to do with his real emotions. It was more about proving to everyone that he was not to be blamed for an already crumbling relationship. I dont think he meant to die because he did it in front of everyone and knew he would be saved. There was more drama and almost no reality in that particular situation. But as I said earlier the culprit that surfaces in both the situations is cheating. Of course human beings were never meant to be monogamous just like other animals. But is that the only reason why humans cheat. If that is the case then isnt this biological susceptibility innate to all humans. Then why do only some people cheat while others stay in long committed relationships which are sometimes not even a happy one. The culture and society also make their contribution into how humans react but still how can some people hurt someone they claim to love. Unless love means something different from what I think it is. Does everyone feel love differently? I can't truly express the emotion, that the word love stands for. For me its limitless something, that is the most powerful and hence painful sometimes. And I always thought no matter who we are or what part of the globe we are from, feelings like joy, pain, sorrow and love are equalizers. They are same for every single one of us. Love that a new mother from America feels for her child would be the same as what a new mother from Lebonon feels. And if I am right then why does a person who loves someone cheat? They very well know that cheating is hurting. Is it because its a different kind of love unlike what a mother feels. Well then why call it love. Love is a feeling resulting from a chemical cocktail hitting our brain. Different cocktails for different kinds of love. Is it really nothing more than that.  Is love just an emotional orgasm. When its there, nothing compares to it. You loose all your senses and willingly and happily fall into the unknown. But if you analyze it you realize it is was the result of a chemical high. Is love really just that?

I have been confused for a long time about my mental status. Am I lazy or am I depressed. Either ways I blame myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. This is a phrase I go to bed with and also the phrase that rushes to fill my brain when I wake up.  I am pretty sure this is also the phrase that lives in every cell of my body. Otherwise there is no other explanation for how it constantly flashes in my brain. Each one of my blood cell atleast has this phrase pasted on its walls like those posters or advertisements that are annoying beyond limits but always there on the roadside. Even if you dont care about it, you are always forced to read it over and over and over again, everytime you pass by that road. You hate the letters, you hate the colors and you dont give a shit about what it says but you still read it. So every time a blood cell passes through my brain,  I read the message. I HATE MYSELF. I dont know who this "I" is. All I know is someone called "I" hates someone called "myself". I have no idea who either of these are.  This happens when you spend too much time with yourself. All you have, to give you company is this "I".  I is a very strange word to address whatever it is. Recently I have started to peel the I.  Nothing seems to make I eternally happy. For I, happy keeps changing. Yet that is all I always wants. How can you make I happy every minute if what it needs to make it happy keeps changing. This is a game. You are the seeker of some magic fountain or a magic stone that stores the source for eternal happiness that I can feed on. You want to tie this I to a brick and dump into the deepest pits of the ocean. You create illusions to please I. But then there are also traps. Sometimes illusions become traps.