Tuesday, May 3, 2011

The Meaning of Love

A while ago, someone asked me what I believed love to be.  More specifically, the question came down to what the difference between love and very, very close amity.  It's a question that's plagued me fairly often, although not so much recently, if only because I've simply accepted that I am in fact in love.  I'm perfectly happy being in love as I am, so that's perfectly fine in my book.

In any case, I've thought about that a lot since the question was posed to me.  And one of those things I realized is that the two people I consider myself to have really been in love with, the distinguishing characteristic in emotions was that I could picture spending the rest of my life with them.  Maybe I couldn't picture the steps to get there, but what I could see was the future, what I would like to happen ten to fifteen years later, after life settled down.

I know that it doesn't define love.  I know it's not at all a definition.  But it's just something I noticed.  Being in love for me was always a matter of wanting to be with someone, wanting to share every moment of every day with them.  That's what always sets someone aside as a person I love rather than merely a close friend.  It's the one person I constantly want to share in my experiences.  When something special or exciting happens, that's the first person I want to tell.

But that's just me.  Maybe I'm the only person in the world who feels that way about love.  Maybe I'm not.  I'm probably not.  And you, my dear friend, are probably different.  I can't define love for you because I don't know how it would feel for you.  I hope this helps a little bit, if nothing more.  And good luck figuring out where to go from here.  You'll do great.

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