Love

Many people look for the meaning of love their whole lives and fail to find the true meaning of the word, or their own way to express it. I wouldn’t say that love has a fixed meaning, for everyone has different interpretations of love, but I think it can be said to be a feeling or a rush of emotions that is so strong it leaves you breathless and paralysed because of the thrill it brings, or the sweet, inkling feeling of security and assurance, a safety net if you would. 

If you ask a 5 year old, she would probably tell you that love is not eating all the chocolate chip cookies and saving it for that one special someone.

If you ask a 15 year old, she would probably tell you that love is being able to belong with someone and feel butterflies and fireworks every time your eyes meet.

If you ask a 25 year old, she would probably tell you that love is sacrificing time and energy to be with someone you like and feeling secure about the relationship.

If you ask a 35 year old, she would probably tell you love is a battle between two souls that long to be together but can’t, a romantic fairytale.

If you ask a 45 year old, she would just tell you love is a bad habit of giving your heart away without thinking properly.

On and on goes the different views of love, but if you ask me, I would tell you, it is the feeling of calmness when you are with the person you love, the safeness of his arms and the smell of his soap. It’s the feeling of happiness, not a forced sort of happiness, but a simple, uncomplicated version of this tricky emotion. The feeling of utter bliss without trying, the feeling of satisfaction, no longer the emptiness felt before. It is sort of like a puzzle piece clicking together to form one whole shape, the edges perfectly fitted, not even an inch more or less. The gaps between your fingers are where mine should be, and your shoulder is just where my head should rest. That is what I think is love.

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