Love is excruciating, exciting, encompassing, enraging. Love is a liar. Love isn't happily ever, nor is it roses and ribbons. Love is that sigh he makes before he falls asleep in your arms. Love is a farting contest that ends when someone decides to torch one. Love isn't sappy cards, or candle lit dinners. Love is a war, a battle. Love isn't a goal, it's a journey.
Sometimes I wish I could make love a little more specific, a little less cryptic-- silly me. Love is so many different things, so many different ideas. I love him, I love you, I love my family, my friends, my dog-- so many different types, but all one thing.
Love is love.
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