Love, whether it's friendship or more, is a sharing - of joy, pain, laughter and tears. There are many variations of love: Love of a parent, Love of a city or nation, Love of life, and Love of people. All different, all Love. Sometimes it's not the light in a person that you fall in love with, but the dark. Sometimes it's not the optimist you need, but a pessimist to walk beside you. Sometimes we want love so much, we're not choosy about who we love. We allow ourselves to be over powered and imprisoned by our own hearts and emotions. Other times we make love such a pure and honest thing, no one could ever live up to our expectations. But for the most part, Love is a choice you can live with, a recognition, an opportunity to say, 'There's something about you I cherish'.
I once believed that love would heal all my old wounds. That was true and a lie. Love is real and false, even true love. Because love alone cannot keep you safe if there's still a trembling fear inside you. Still a knowledge of what it was like to love and believe in people only to have it all slip away.
There have only been a few people that I have really loved. My parents and sister, and that was a love of a different kind. What I feel for you goes far beyond anything manageable. When I first saw you, you were striking and with the arresting qualities of self-confidence and self-reliance, you were stunning. Your beautiful in a way that transcends anything I have ever known. But my attraction to you is a response to so much more. To the playfulness in your smile and blush in your cheeks. To your way of speaking and the way you carry yourself. To the way you look at me.
In all ways, I am captivated.
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