Love.

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“How do you know when you’re in love?” I asked my best friend. He’s in love and, for the most of the time, happy about it. Therefore, he gave me a long spontaneous speech about what love is. It left me indifferent. I thought about googling it, but I didn’t, it would’ve been too much. So I just forgot about it. Plus, I didn’t really need to know.
Time went by and I came to realize that love, like many other things, is not a forged concept. We make our own definition of it, and it’s perpetually changing.
I have my own definition of love, I am making it, and it’s not absolute reality. I accept that it will change, without me even noticing. But here’s my current vision on Love:
Love is when I am dying to go places with you, but I’d refuse to if I know you’ll be better off without me. Love is me secretly wishing you’ll insist on telling me that you’re not better off without me. It’s me smiling at the thought of how you’re awake somewhere else; somewhere beautiful, even when I’m not there. It’s the bittersweet feeling of being happy for you, but cursing the distance that made me not by your side. Love is you telling me that I don’t have to explain when you can tell I’m struggling to find words. Love is the texts you send me in the am, when you wake up in the middle of the night thinking of me. Love is me grasping every word you say, wanting you to say more because at that moment it’s what your beautiful mind is thinking, and every word you say allows an extended look into it. Love is what you see in me and that nobody else does. Love is us meeting each other halfway when we’re both too proud. It’s falling back on the trust we have in each other when we’re both in doubt. Love is how together we heal parts of ourselves we didn’t even know needed healing. Love is how happy you are reading these lines. Love is me freaking out about your name being EVERYWHERE when I am trying to get you out of my mind, when others don’t even see it.. because to them it’s irrelevant and to me it’s everything. Love is you asking me “Are you okay?” every time I let out the tiniest sign of discomfort. It’s me always wanting to make you feel better. Love is us not wanting to change one another, but changing for each other when we know that that’s what the other person needs. Love is us not being able to part every time we’re together. Love is us missing each other as soon as we do. Love is us always wanting to be together. Love is us enjoying being together even when we’re sitting there in complete silence. Love is when I’d spend hours with you without ever thinking that I’d rather be somewhere else, with someone else, doing something else.. not even for a second.
Love is the little things only I see in you, and those you see in me too. Love is what turned us into poets without the slightest intention from our side. It’s the beautiful things we tell each other that we will never tell anyone else…

Love is all of this and more. I know I make it hard for anybody to love me but you still did. What I’m trying to say is that I have never felt this way before, until I felt all of what’s described above, for you, with you. What I’m trying to say is that I may never figure out what love truly is at its core, but my current definition of love is this. My current definition of love is: YOU, and I couldn’t be more content with it.

 

This was written over a year ago. Words kept flowing endlessly on a sleepless night while you were away and they added up to this. Then eventually I had to stop because it felt like it was turning into a book. This was more than a year ago so it’s very incomplete [It would probably take two books if I try to get what’s on my mind and heart onto paper now], but I wanted to share this raw; the way it was written that night.. I love you with a love that’s bigger than any of what’s described above, a love I know I can’t proplerly put into words.

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