"... I can't believe that there is a fairy tale in which have fought for a woman more and more desperately than what in my inside I has been fought for you, from the beginning and always again and, maybe forever" .
Franz Kafka
I think of love as a "coordinate" that leads us to others, and these in turn to oneself. That is his sense of eternal search. But, what are we looking for? It is undeniable that there are obsessive loves that are not only given by people of a specific sex, if you do not love sick people who are given by figures of beloved leaders of countries that contain an archetypal response to the lost father, in this case, as I said, the replacement of some beloved object that is not necessary to have had and then lost, this good could have been always absent. However, this does not mean that this search is in daily scenarios more or less unhealthy.
The case of harassment of course "love" can occur in a school; or in the scenario of a perennial search for romantic and sexual relationships that serve as a nepent for the outcome of some failed relationship can also be opened. It is in this last point that lies the importance of love not between parents and siblings, but that between two completely unknown people who are for some reason somewhere and between them begins some chemistry.
That "first love" works to mold ourselves as people. If that first love is not healthy, it is possible that it leaves wounds that will take too long to heal, or that they may never do so, and so the person in question must lock them deep within themselves. On the other hand, in case of being positive and that love ending, a positive archetype of person is obtained.
It is no mistake or exaggeration to say personally that me, as a male, I'm also many women at the same time: I refer to the women I have been loved, the ones who have loved me and the ones that I have loved back, wanting to unravel what love is, I have come to this conclusion.
All your life people will repeat the phrase: "to love someone else, first you must love yourself", and may be true but not in all cases, and I think much less in most of them. I don't know if it is a social phenomenon of postmodern society plunged into the chaos of advertising that every day bombarding in a dizzying way with the idea that we are unhappy and that we need to complement a product, coupled with the romances of the screens of cinema and television, and more recently to couples "goals" of internet photos that, after all, are just photos, we do not know the context of them, much less if those people are what they claim to be.
In any case, we live in a vortex of constant self-contempt that blinds us and makes it impossible to know through any of our senses what we are, what we deserve and what we can do. We do not know which of us deserves to be loved. It is not until someone comes to us and points out the things in our being that deserves to be love.
That love that someone else gives us, allows us to love ourselves too, to fight to be better and as good as they say we are. That love is what allows us to achieve discoveries in oneself that were previously impossible. And even if that love ends and there is spite, those discoveries are exposed forever, like an island marked on a map. To love is to inhabit in another, and to let, in turn, dwell in you. It's experience is pedagogical.