Frequently I ask myself do I love the idea of love more than the reality of it? Do I crave the rush, the electricity of being wanted, the giddy, intoxicating high of knowing I am on someone's mind? Or do I want what comes after the steadiness, the choice, the kind of love that lingers when the thrill fades?

I want love. Of course, I do. But I fear what it takes from me. I fear the way I let it rearrange me, the way it demands space in my mind even when I fight it. I fear how I lose myself in the wanting.

I used to think love would arrive with certainty, that I would just know . That love would be an unshakable thing, a home I could step into without... See more

It’s ridiculous, really, the way a person can slip into your life and suddenly, their name is stitched into the quietest corners of your mind. How even in their absence, they exist in everything.

Love that remembers me when it’s lonely but disappears when the world is good to it.

I don’t think I’ve ever known how to love in halves. When I love, it consumes me. It settles into my bones, reshapes my days, turns absence into something I can physically feel .