Letras:Andrew Landon. The Definition of Love.

Love is a funny thing.
You expect it to be easy. You expect it to be a world of roses and laughs and perfect moments that you find only
in movies.

You expect her to
always say the right thing, and
always know exactly how you feel,
or exactly how to react to it.
You expect her to calm you down when you're yelling or to chase you
when you run away.

You expect so much that you feel entirely, and utterly defeated when something doesn't exactly match up to all your plans. But that's the thing.

Love isn't a plan. It doesn't have
a certain beginning and it
certainly has no end, or a visible
finish line to those deeply in it.

Love happens; it is so
incredibly messy. People around
you can't comprehend why you do
the things you do, or why you
fight so hard for something that
seems to cause you so much pain.

Because simply, they can't see.
They can't see the invisible ring
of insanity that surrounds you
when you're in love. It's
inconvenient and painful and
devastating at times, but we can't
live without it.

What you don't learn is how hard love is. How much work it takes. How much of ourselves we have to put into it.
How it isn't worth it until we are
complete and utter idiots about it.

Love isn't her calming you
down when you yell. It's her
yelling, just as loud, just as
hard, right back at you, right in
your face to wake you up and to
keep you grounded.

It isn't her or him bringing you roses
everyday or cute things that make
your relationship appear more
presentable. It's right after a long
fight, that drains the life and
bones right out of both of you, and
yet her or him showing up at your door the next morning anyway.

It's not her saying all the right things or knowing exactly how to handle you. So no, it's not her caressing your
hair and telling you everything is
going to be okay. It's her
standing there, admitting she's
just as scared as you are.

You have to remember that with love, you're not the only one involved.
You've unknowingly put your life,
your heart into the palm of
another's hands and saying,
here. Do what you will. Mash it
into a million pieces, mash it into meat. Or forget I ever handed it to you in the first place. Just as long as you
have it.

It makes reality invisible and it
erases all the lines that we
shouldn't cross. Because love
isn't about fencing ourselves in;
feeling safe, feeling sure about
the future.

It's about scaring the shit out of every nerve in our body, but pushing forward anyway.

Because all the fighting and all
the tears and all the uncertainty
is worth it. And it's a hell of a
lot better, than being 100% happy
without someone to show us that
there is a world of a difference
between feeling 'happy' and
feeling whole.