Love

Love is not happiness. Love is not passion. Love is the aftermath of passion: security, trust, and solace. Love is all a primitive biological drive. Love is a chemical reaction. Love is attachment.

Love is never telling you that I love you because I fear that if I say it too much, the meaning will be diluted and all its worth will be lost. Love is waiting for your phone calls at 8 PM. Love is calling you at 8 PM. Love is giddiness. Love is embracing you and inhaling your scent. Love is devotion. Love is associating songs with you. Love is going to the Homecoming Dance with you although I have a fever. Love is recognizing your faults and ignoring them. Love is looking out the window of my dad's Scion just to catch a glimpse of your house on the side of the freeway when my dad drives me to school. Love is helping you with your college essay. Love is basically doing your art project for you. Love is spending weeks and weeks on a thirty page book you'll never read. Love is looking at your picture and feeling a slight pain in my chest. Love is crying and feeling scared when I realized and finally understood how much I love you. Love is vomiting after you broke up with me. Love is not eating because I can't stand to eat. Love is not sleeping enough because I can't stand to sleep. Love is driving my dad's Scion and tearing up because of the music on the radio is the one I once associated with you. Love is still keeping the photos of you on my Photobucket. Love is still keeping that worthless book. Love is going to Prom alone, although I imagined you with me that day for two years. Love is...