I used to believe that love was supposed to make you feel crazy. The feeling of your palms sweating, heart racing, giddy childlike joy. I have experienced that love. That love that keeps you awake, tossing and turning in angst waiting to feel his fingertips trace your shoulder just one more time. That love, its addicting. And its bittersweet. This kind of love, destroys you, if you allow it. Nothing is as important as that rush you get from him. Your job and your friends, become a fading tone in the background. But what about 2 in the morning when you’re alone in your bed, silently crying because another reason has surfaced as to why he can’t spend one night wrapped up in your arms? Where is that rush, that ever burning love? I have felt this love, and darling, it’s not love.

Love is phone calls and text messages all throughout the day, a simple reminder that you’re on his mind. Love is walking into the door and feeling the calm wash over you. Its feeling as though those arms around you could never be close enough, even as you trace the muscles along his forearms. Love is hearing the ocean waves crashing around you as he chases your giggles through the moonlit sand. Love is when the sky is filled with billions of twinkling stars, as he grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap whispering, “still not as beautiful as you”. Love is chasing your children through a field of wildflowers, stopping only to take pictures in your head for a rainy day. It’s Saturdays on your back porch watching the thunderstorms roll in, and sunday mornings watching the sun rise drinking a cup of coffee. Its the sound of your name whispered in the dark as he reaches for your warmth. Its breakfast at midnight, painting bedrooms and dance parties in your underwear. This love, fills every part of your soul. It consumes you. It makes you whole. Forget what people told you, its not about hearts beating fast and butterflies. This love is about where your heart and your mind find peace. 


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