They made us need a reason just to even experience love. When we were younger, we loved for no reason at all. A color, a song, a toy, simply because it moved us. There was no demand placed on you; your experience was treated as valid on its own. Then we grow up, and love is put on trial. Suddenly, just "liking" something isn't enough. You must explain why, what, how you love it. If you can't defend it, it's dismissed-labeled irrational, immature, invalid. So, what do we do? Well, we adapt. We learn. If you think about it, no matter what kind of love it is, if it's constantly questioned, it begins to... fade. Then, you learn to love less because you anticipate judgment. And the worst part is that you stop asking what you feel and start asking what you're allowed to feel. And I'm so sorry if I sound pessimistic here, but love does not die because it's false. It dies because it's forced to justify itself endlessly. And how can you ever prove something that never accepts your truth as "sufficient enough?"