Love February

They say you always have a choice, and that you can always choose love.

But how about anger? How about boiling rage over injustice after injustice? What about crippling despair, and paralysing grief? How about disgust? And ambivalence, and contempt? Or just plain old sadness and fear. Are they never the right choice?

If I have to choose love, then it better be like white light, that actually consists of all the other colours and emotions. Because some days, if love is even there, then it’s surely been split into the infinite shades of all the other emotions, and is just plain invisible to the naked eye.