The Passion

I am one of these women who slightly lose it when they fall in love.
I am not the type of woman that stays composed, calm, practical.

Oh no. 

I am what we used to call passionate, that now we might call crazy. I am the kind of woman who gets so obsessive, that if I put the same energy into my life that I put into my falling-in-loves, I’d be the President of France, an Olympic champion and Mother Theresa all at the same time.

Tsss, tsss, don’t judge. You probably are the same.

—

Oh, that energy.

Meeting infatuation in the shape of a fascinating other often unleashes a passion we didn’t know was there, inside of us.

In the space of a moment, attraction changes us. We move mountains if it just means seeing him (I’ll say him because I am me, but whatever is your preference!) for a minute, we work overtime if he’s part of our team, we lose the twenty kilos we hadn’t been able to get rid of for ten years; we buy unrealistic lingerie and we wear it. We completely overhaul our home, we jump on planes…