Love and the sciences.

There is a love that rattles your core and marks your soul. This is the love that defies all reasoning, all logic, any sense. It is the crazy, incredible, once-in-a-lifetime love. The love that knows how to break you until you are a million tiny shards and put you back together, good as new. The kind you try to banish into oblivion, but it finds a crevice in your heart instead and stays there forever, securing its niche, its special place. From its home, this love bears witness to all the other loves that come and go or stay. It watches as these other loves try to find niches for themselves but end up in makeshift tents of cardiac muscle, never quite embedding like it has, never snug. It pities these other loves because it knows none of them will ever be able to do to you what it once did. None can kindle fiery passion the way it did. They try, oh they do, but they never live up to the love buried deep in you. The one you hope to find in every new love that visits. It knows your wish is for one of these loves to evict it and take its place, but they cannot, because deep down, you yearn for it and it alone, it is the standard by which you measure other loves. And other loves always fall short. So it remains in its crevice, content to stay there throbbing in sync with your heart. And when you, frustrated, finally settle for one of the other loves, it knows you are just settling. It knows you are choosing to give up fire and ice and wonder and ache and tongues finding eachother and hands working magic, bodies merged as if born together and minds intertwined. It knows you remember it, think of it, as you struggle to accept the love you have settled for. A love that will never satisfy you. You resign yourself to your fate.

Then one day, he appears. The one whose love is embedded in your core. Like you, he has never been satisfied. "What was I thinking when I walked away from the best thing that ever happened to me?" He asks. "Forgive me," he pleads. "Come home, babe," he beckons. You are euphoric, but you quickly remember that you have settled and your heart sinks to your stomach. "I'm afraid home is a place where echoes now live. A tomb of dead hopes," you respond. "I never knew you to deal in counterfeits," he says. "I've perfected the art," you reply. You stare at eachother in silence, his love embedded in you, your love wrecking havoc in him. "I love you," he whispers. "I've never stopped loving you," you reply.
"We will never be satisfied." The words come out of both your mouths at the same time. You both laugh. Then you turn around and walk away, and the new love you have settled for sinks half an inch deeper into your heart. A new niche. Not an eviction.

This is how we never end up with true love.