I find myself tempted to write a semi-professional treatise about love. Something like this:
Love is considered to be one of the great mysteries of the universe, which no person can comprehend. The idea is that love, at its core, is irrational, and so people spend little time trying to thoughtfully analyze it, determining what makes love "love".
Love is not irrational.
The things in this universe follow rules. For example, a chair has four legs, a seat and a back. If you try to change this set "chair pattern", you end up with something that is not a chair. A chair with only four legs and a seat is a stool, not a chair. A chair with three legs and a seat is a tripod, not a chair. And a chair with only two legs and a seat is likely to fall down the moment you sit on it.
Love likewise has its own rules. People try to change the rules of love, or come up with their own rules. This results in a half-formed love, a strange mess which vaguely resembles the way love is supposed to be. Just like a chair with only two legs, is likely to fall apart at any moment.
More often than not, however, when people try to break the rules of love, they find that love breaks them.
That's all I've written so far, and I have no idea what to write next. I'm not sure where I got the urge to write that little blurb.