Love is a rebellious force- like you, a wild bird that I could never hope to tame. It flutters through my life unpredictably, defying all control and reason. I often find myself grappling with its capricious nature, wondering why it arrives when I least expect it and departs just as swiftly. This freedom is what makes loving you both exhilarating and frustrating.

At its core, love resists my attempts to control it. I’ve tried summoning it with sweet words, grand gestures, and even desperate pleas, but nothing works. Threats or prayers fall flat against love’s whims. I notice that while some express themselves eloquently, others remain silent. It’s often the quiet ones who captivate me the most. Oftentimes you say nothing, but I like it; your silence speaks volumes. In those moments, I realize that the most profound connections are often forged not through words but through unspoken understanding. Silence becomes a powerful form of communication, revealing deeper emotions that words can’t capture.

Love is like a Romani child—free-spirited and unbound by societal norms or expectations. It knows no laws and follows no rules. Love is that rebellious bird that no one can tame; if you don’t love me, I might find myself drawn to you; yet if I love you, I must tread carefully. It is perilously thrilling.

This pursuit of love often feels like trying to catch a bird that flutters just out of reach. I’ve often thought I could surprise it, only to watch as it flaps its wings and flies away. I convince myself that I've captured it, yet it slips away at the slightest provocation. Love frequently eludes me until I stop actively seeking it. This dance of pursuit and retreat defines my relationship with love and, of course, naturally then with you.

As I navigate this landscape of emotions, I find myself caught in a cycle of desire and disappointment. Our love comes and goes with astonishing haste; one moment it feels within my grasp, and the next it vanishes into thin air. There are times when I think I have it, but it avoids me; other times, when I try to dodge it, it holds me close instead. The irony lies in my attempts to control or evade love—when I clutch too tightly, it slips away; yet when I try to sidestep it, I often find myself ensnared by its charms.

So please don't be late again; I really need the car today.

What do y'all think- is this okay to text my wife?