Love...is there an alternative word?

I think its the best example for an emotion that has both pain and joy. So beautiful at times, that you are addicted to it. With the same intensity, an emotion that is filled with pain.

When beautiful, love can make you keep going back. But when painful, can make you wanna leave everything you already have.

A feeling so intense...difficult to describe..

Icing on the cake!

We always crave to have everything in life. There are two sides to a coin. If you want joy, you get pain along with that. But none of us want the pain, we just want the joy..the cake and the icing on it too!! It never works that way..does it?!

There are many ways of looking at it. If you start accepting the fact that its a flip sided coin, then you know what to expect. But if you wanna remain in the state of rejection, then you gotta make a choice...do u wanna suffer the pain for the joy? or do you wanna sacrifice the joy because u don wanna go through the pain?

"To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd."

Another way if looking at it...imagine a life that was always happy and beautiful. If that were to be, then life would probably be boring and we probably wouldnt have the chance to appreciate the things that are the way they are. We feel the joy only because we feel the pain. We know the difference between the two. When you're in pain, you're just waiting for that moment when everything will be over and you can be happy again. And when you're happy, you can expect that it might not stay that way forever.

In the end, I think its the way you look at it...