To Pranay Oscar Lakra, again. Why? Because I can. Also, because sometimes love is simply a best friend being there for you.
Love is finding someone who loves all your broken pieces.
Love is finding someone who doesn’t want to tame your demons, but wants to dance with them.
Love is understanding them, and not judging them at times when everyone else would.
Love is loving them even when you hate them.
Love is giving up your last slice of chocolate cake, even though you love cake.
Love is finding someone who knows the complete version of the real you, the version you keep hidden from everybody else, and they love you for it.
Love is finding someone you never have to be anybody but yourself with.
Love is arguing with them with all you’ve got without the fear of losing them hanging over your head.
Love is when their mood can easily affect yours.
Love is taking care of them when they are too old to take care of themselves.
Love is sitting on your porch swing when you’re old and wrinkled, and watching your grandkids play.
Love is not letting them go to bed sad.
Love is making their favourite food when they’re mad at you, even though you suck at cooking.
Love is wanting to kill them, but not doing so because you would miss them.
Love is telling them the truth, even if it’s going to hurt.
Love is getting up off the dinner table and suddenly twirling her around, and watching the happiness flash across her face.
Love is when you can think out loud in front of them.
Love is finding someone who would just.. Stay.
Love is home.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore