Just some random observations…
“Being in love” the way most people mean is like a firework. It’s bright as hell. Lights everything around it. And it’s beautiful. But fireworks fall apart and burn out, leaving only darkness. Love is more like a campfire. Sometimes it burns so brightly it hurts; other times you can barely find an ember. But either way, there’s warmth and at least a speck of light, and it doesn’t completely go out unless someone puts it out.
Love is when you feel more like yourself when you’re with that person than at any other time in your life. As if they see the you that you wish you could be and reflect it back at you so you realize you’re already there.
Love is when you feel their arms around you and know that no matter what, you’ll always be safe there.
Love is when you want to spend time with the other person, even when you aren’t really doing anything together, even when you’ve had a stressful, crappy day or week and don’t want to deal with the rest of the world.
Love is when the other person looks at you as if you’re the most valuable, incredible treasure they’ve ever seen, and they’re the most valuable treasure you’ve ever had.
Love is letting the other person see your needs and vulnerabilities because you know they won’t judge you for them, and it’s realizing that showing the other person those parts of yourself makes you stronger.
Love is trying to remember your life before them and not being able to, because it feels like they’ve always been there. And it’s wondering what your life would be like without them and hoping you never find out.
Love is recognizing the other person the first time you meet, even if you’ve never seen them before. Not recognizing their face; recognizing THEM.
Love isn’t about labels or names. It’s knowing that the person is there for you, and wanting to be there for them no matter what’s going on in your life. It’s smiling when you see their name on your friends list, and cheering up even on your worst days when you remember time you spent with them or a silly joke they told. It’s accepting them at their worst and knowing they’ll accept you at yours.
Love is realizing the other person knows you better and more deeply than anyone else—and that they accept and want you not in spite of it all, but because all of those things, all the flaws and scars and fucked-upness, are part of you, and you are valuable to them. And it’s accepting and wanting them fully and completely as they are, because even the things about them that make you nuts are part of them, and they’re valuable to you.