Confession story #36

" Maybe we don’t understand love because we can’t pin it down, we can’t define it perfectly. Instead, maybe we just have to accept the fact that, though it is not this physical, tangible thing, in the end it is everything that makes us up. It is life.

See, to me — love is like ice cream. There are so many different varieties to choose from, but there’s nothing more satisfying than your favorite flavor.

Love is a hangover. The pain of it is only ever truly regrettable if you don’t have any great times to show for it.

Love is a bicycle. You might need training wheels to start, but only until you realize that if you trust yourself enough, you can fly through life on just two wheels.

Love is a hit song. You can’t help getting it stuck in your head and although you might tire of it occasionally, whenever it plays unexpectedly on the radio, you smile wide and sing along.

Love is a glass vase. Once broken, it’s virtually impossible to put all the pieces back together without getting a little hurt along the way.

Love is a blank journal waiting for you to fill its pages with meaningful thoughts, random memories, secrets, and silly doodles, but nothing untruthful.
Love is a cult, misunderstood by everyone except those utterly devoted to it.

Love is a cup of coffee—sometimes burning hot, sometimes ice cold.

Love is like oxygen. You need it to live but when asked to define it, you inevitably struggle.

Love is a library. Row upon row of books will beg you to check them out, but you’ll suffer unless you can accept that there aren’t enough hours in the day to read so much.

Love is the never-ending riddle you keep trying to solve even though you know on some level that there’s actually no answer."

#thoughts