There is love that leaves you wanting, and is it their fault or yours? Are we just fucked up inside? Do we put up with things we shouldn’t? Are we hiding our true selves? Are we living in a world of make believe, hoping they’ll love the make believe in a way they could never love our damaged selves?
There is love that makes you wish we were old already, sitting in our rocking chairs, drinking iced tea.
There is love that feels familiar, makes you breathe deeper and with relief.
There is love that makes your breath quicken, like your head is on fire, like you can fly, makes you race up stairs, makes you run, towards it or away, towards it or away, with fear chasing behind you or leading the way.