Diary of a Loon: A Modern Tale of Love and Insanity

Love is a serious matter?

I guess...

On the flipside...who wants to be serious when you can be spectacularly ridiculous?

So crank up the old-school tunes and stew in the craziness of it all. Turn the volume all the way UP and strut like you did after watching John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever at the ELDORADO. And drag out that 3-piece white suit if it still fits lol.

This one’s for all of us who’ve lost our damn minds in the name of love. 

You are not alone. 
There’s a club. 
We meet on WhatsApp, share music from the 80's and akhni and paaper bites requests!

Diary of a Loon

(A poem about love or lunacy)

You move me to madness,
And make me lose my head.
Can I keep you in my pocket?
Can I hide you under my bed?

(Note: This is what Attachment Theory calls "Anxious Preoccupied".)

"Shut it, John and Mary! Leave me to my delulu!”

You make me want to scream and shout,
And sometimes pull out my hair.
Will you stick around for another week?
Or are you ready to vanish into thin air?

(Ah yes, Ambivalent Attachment: When “come here” and “go away” are said in the same breath while wearing yesterday’s clothes.)

“I’m not strange, Mary, you are!”

You seem to laugh at all my jokes
Then look fearfully away…
Must you really go home every night?
Or can I persuade you to stay?

(Classic oxytocin overdose, my friends. When the love hormone floods the brain and common sense packs its bags.)

“Crazy! Not me, you are!"

Everyone around us is watching
To see how far this goes:
Have you also been infected?
Are you too in the midst madness’ throes?

(This, my darlings, is limbic resonance. Google it. Or don’t. It’s basically emotional Wi-Fi for the heart. And the signal strength is insane.)

“Oh Maria, Maria…” Santana knows!

What is this maddening madness?
Why does it linger, feeding on lies?
I left you behind long ago-
Peekaboo! I’m back...surprise!

(Dopamine addiction. Literally. Science says falling in love activates the same brain regions as a cocaine high. That explains a lot, doesn’t it?)

“Ok, I’m addicted, so what?”

It’s so damn complicated;
But you say that you are true…
If that’s the case, please surrender,
And stop making me feel so blue.

(Ladies and gents: The prefrontal cortex, which controls logic and reasoning, takes a nap during early attachment. This is why we text back after red flags.)

“But I like flags!”

Moral of the Story: You Are Not Crazy. You Smitten.

Look, it’s easy to dismiss ourselves as fools when we’re crushing hard.

When we’re plotting elaborate text replies, decoding IG Stories looking for hidden messages, and obsessing over whether that “haha” in the DMs was just polite… or a soul-bonding laugh that means he’s so into you.
"It’s a chuckle. Calm down, Breathe, babe."

Or worse - knowing you’ve been muted, wrapped in an invisibility cloak you never asked for.

But here’s the beautiful, maddening twist:
Love is madness. It’s supposed to be.
Evolutionarily speaking, if we were rational about this, humanity wouldn’t even exist.
Our ancestors saw someone cute and thought,
“I need to protect you from saber-tooth tigers and make sure you have berries.”
Now it’s, “Will you watch Star Trek reruns with me for the next 40 years?”
Same wild energy.

Different eras.

Yes, love hijacks the brain.
Yes, it makes us lose all chill... and occasionally, our marbles.
But it also makes us dance.
It makes us write cringe poetry, send ridiculous selfies, and believe, against all logic, that this connection is destiny.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.
To be gloriously ridiculous.
To lose our cool.
To laugh until we ugly cry.

Because love isn’t about keeping your sanity intact.
It’s about surrendering to the ride.
The highs.
The heartbreaks.
The “what the hell am I doing” moments.
The giddy, reckless hope that makes your heart pound louder than the beats of Reggaeton.

So sit with it, babe. All of it.
The swooning.
The spiralling.

The silence after they leave you on read for days (or forever - "you know, you know").
The nights when you run out of chocolate, paaper bites, or patience.
The mornings when you've lost your appetite, your friends ghosts you, and your hope wears thin.

Then…

Put on your Ray Bans.
Wear your sexiest T, or your pjs... no judgment.
Blast your favourite song. 

And set your mojo to the MAX.
Because crazy in love?
That’s the story you’ll laugh about later.
The one that makes you feel alive again.
When time has blurred the self-doubt.

And babe, that smile... man, the way (s)he had you smiling?
That’s the real magic.