Love. It’s complicated. It’s beautiful and magical. It can feel like you are walking on air. But it can also be a fight. It can also feel like a mountain climb. And when it’s real? It’s fucking hard.
Love is not a romance novel. It’s not a Nicholas Sparks fairytale. It’s not just about getting along with someone or finding them attractive. Because at the end of the day, they will eventually get on your last nerve, and his or her looks will eventually fade. True love is getting past that point.
Love is looking past someone’s outerwear. It’s opening up the dark and grey parts. Love is peeling them down layer by layer, and loving each and every part. Love is hearing about their past, hearing about their mistakes and accepting that they are going to make even more mistakes.
Love is listening even when you don’t want to. It’s conversation that sometimes leads to fights and arguments. But love is still kissing them goodnight. And love is still adoring them, despite really disliking them all at once.
Love is wanting to rip your hair out, out of frustration from what your partner has said or done. It’s burning up with heat and with anger, but it’s accepting their difference in opinion.
It’s about acceptance. It’s about forgiveness. It’s never about waning to always be right. It’s never about them always being wrong.
Love is breathing together and apart. It’s colliding next to one another at night, sharing your ordinary day, and it’s also about having your own friends and hobbies and days.
Love is being so, so beautiful together, but it’s also about being just as wonderful apart.
Love is never going to be easy when it’s big and real and true.
It’s scary. It’s scary to jump into it. And it’s even more scary to fall into it, headfirst, with the both of you holding on for dear life.
It’s having silly arguments about cleaning the dishes, about which side which person will sleep on, it’s dumb fights about his ugly shoes or her shopping problem. It’s saying words, but it’s most importantly about listening to those words. It’s about compassion and understanding, not resisting.
Love is fucking hard.
And I can’t wait to find it again.
Because the beautiful moments are more than worth the hard parts. And the wonderful and magical bits are far more powerful than the bad.