I gotta tell you something about comfort. Comfort, in its best representation, means that someone somewhere and at any time of the day and night cares about you. People insist on calling this Love. Love with a capital L, the One and True Love, the one that never stops whatever happens. But Love is only the addition of comfort and selfishness. Why do we love? Because we need to be reassured. We need someone to care about us. We need someone to be here and say "everything is gonna be fine". And then our mind is peaceful and we can carry on our lives, our perfectly comfortable and lovely lives. But what is love but an accomplishment of the selfish human desires? Do we have to stop living if we remain unloved? Can't we survive? Most of the time, people would say, we can't. And they are right. Today, love is everywhere. On the newspapers' front pages, on every TV channel, have you ever heard a song, or seen a movie without any alusion to love? Love is everywhere, hounding us, haunting us, spitting at us its crual and terrifying reality : Without love we are kind of nothing. Love, the Achilles' heel of human beings, the plague of single people.
(By Me, Myself and I, for once, and not from Grey's Anatomy!)