When I say love, I don’t mean you want to hold his hand. Love means you choose to hold his hand, intertwine your fingers, and never let go until your hands become rough because you worked hard in sculpting each other’s faces in your memories.
Maybe love is not like the sun, which comes out every single day and only stays for a little while. Maybe love is like an eclipse which only appears once a year, decade, or century.
I don’t have to be someone different from who I really am. This is me and it’s simplicity.