Inspired by Laura's post.
Love is difficult and long. It is ambitous and a bitch. It is heavy and insecure, but crazy-soft to touch. It is hard to say and hard to hear, but easy to hang on to. It is really whatever you want, but it is rarely whatever you need. It is a flash of warmth on a winter Florida night. It is a constantly ringing telephone that you just cannot answer. It is not how they write about it in movies and songs. It is unstable, explosive at any moment. Love changes. It is never the same as you left it last night. It has different forms. It is impossible to be in love with someone who hurts you, but you will probably continue to love them. Love is when you cry when it is gone. It is when you look into the sun and see that light can come from other sources. Love is a candle that flickers and melts, leaving you with wax to mold into another candle.
Love is only you. When you are lucky and probably when you don't know it, love is someone else too.
