Love is a huge bunch of emotions tied to little things. For example, how they kiss you on the neck. Like running your fingers through his hair. How he wraps you in a blanket and carries you to bed because you fell asleep again while waiting for him from work. How he chooses flowers for you, for no reason, knowing that they will wither in less than a week. But you love them so much, which means that this argument is already enough.
Love is not even sex. It can be repeated with many. Love is when you don't want anyone other than that person.
Love is what happens to you "before" and it "rushes" like a cannon.
You don’t want the unloved: to feel on your chest, you don’t want to kiss on the head and tangle your fingers in your hair. I do not want to see the unloved in the morning, opening my eyes. This is an unpleasant truth, but damn it, the truth is always sharp, not very pleasant, but it does not give off a false, sugary smell of flattery.
Love is what torments you at night or brings you the greatest pleasure. This is what makes you soar above all the fuss of the world and not notice it. Or something that pulls with a load on the asphalt and does not spare, ruthlessly not allowing you to get up from it.
Love ... "What a rotten word," some will say, while others will say: "It's damn cool!". Both of them will be right. Some, if they did not save love, for which she spat in the soul and went out of life. And others are those who were stronger, smarter, wiser in this and who managed to save it.
Life is complicated, but an interesting thing, and what just doesn’t happen, thousands of stories and each one is individual. Do I believe at the same time that there are happy families and healthy love? Absolutely definitely, definitely, unconditionally - yes!