Existential anxiety and all because of a stupid book and a fear of public toilet mirrors

Love is a perpetual journey that does not go through space, an endless oscillating motion that remains unmoved. Love create for itself a tension that disrupts every tense in time. Love has certain elements in common with eternal regression, since this exchange of reflections can neither be exhausted nor destroyed, but it is not a regression. It is a direct durationless, locationless progression toward an ultimate state of ecstatic annihilation
--Angela carter, The infernal desire machines of Doctor Hoffman

She makes 'love' sound like Armaegaeddon(sp-pardon my blog's fatal flaw, second to irrational ramblings).Poor tormented conflicting souls of lovers. Maybe people in love should be more associated with hell than the common association of love with being in heaven. Which sometimes strike me as a very peaceful but nonetheless terribly boring place. Where nothing much happens, in opposition to the constant chaos and barbequeing of heaven's darker twin. Her concept is so intense and honestly so tempting. I wish love was indeed eternal regression--I would love to be eternally regressing-progressing on the same plane toward ecstatic annihilation. But alas, I am not character in a novel. But an average, rather boring girl too aware of my reality but what I really love about this quote is not the seemingly destructive/beauty. But the sense of the uncanny. Perhaps this has less to do with romantic love but just a more general sense of love, especially that of self-love.

Because sometimes I get that uncanny, slightly alien feeling when I look into mirrors placed directly opposite one another, yes eternal regression-progression on the same plane. Angela carter merely by example is just using tha analogy of the opposing mirrors, but the experience in reality is strange and problematic to the individual. Confronted by an endless projection of a reflection of my relfection, I get freaked out. I feel alone (infinitely, multiplied by million)And the confrontation between the me and the multitude of reflected images of myself, makes me feel if I have some kind of leakage in my being that i need to close up.

I dont' know if anyone can look at the above quote and not feel a shiver running up their spine, and some sense of anxiety, but her definition of love is scary, because it points to a loss of the unique 'I' similar to the case of the 2 mirrors. Most other definitions of love I have come across are strangely comforting in their reassertion of the importance of the individual lovers in love. The other half is there only to reassure the uniqueness of the beloved, not to negate his/her identity. Love in all those definitions make the beloved unqiue in the eyes of the lover. Here it is a threat of taking that away. I do not think this has to do with selfless or selfish love and all that rubbish but the possibility that the state of love objectifies and tries to erase. Love in this case, is not a creative force, but a force which negates, leaving uncanny empty replicas, and a black hole. It is the case of mirrors causing anxiety and doubts to arise of one's own existence instead of a reassurance of it. And it is probably in all sense normal for me to feel this sense of anxiety, which refuses to go away even with the happier philosopher's concepts on love. It's just that I have no stronger remedy to rebutt the power of the quote, it leaves me feeling dislocated and slightly thrown off.