LOVE IS IT 💕 VALENTINE'S DAY IS NOT 👎🏽

While I may sound like I am a single, cynical, Valentine’s-Day-basher, I do really have to question the morality of this day.

It forces us to prove or highlight or advertise our love through flowers, candy, and scented candles.

True love can be translated in many ways, but here’s what it is to me:

Real love is listening to the same bullsh*t story time and time again and not switching off. 

Real love is listening to that godforsaken noise they make when they chew gum and still wanting to stand next to them over anyone else. 

Real love is standing by them when their world begins to fall, taking the heat alongside them when they make a mistake, accepting flaws and a sh*t-load of compromise.

Enduring love is not skin deep; it is not materialistic or measured against successes. On the contrary, it’s measured against how strong you stick together throughout life’s failures.

Love is damage control.

Love is not a rescue mission; it’s someone who will lie in the pit of despair next to you—then walk beside you as you find your own way out.

Love splits the fear factor down the middle and shares in your pain.

Love doesn’t kick us when we are down or demand that we get back up. It is just beside us—regardless.

Real love sees us at our worst and loves us as much then as when we are at our best.

It’s all-seeing and all-knowing from the inside out. And it loves us for these flaws as much as our perfections.

Real love knows beauty is only skin deep.

To love someone deeply is to compromise daily.

It’s raw and gritty—completely naked.

It’s putting up with your significant other’s dickhead uncle at the family gathering just because it’s important to them. 

It’s them hating your new friends but understanding they are your choice, not theirs.

There’s a whole lot of biting your tongue in love.

True love is a fierce argument softened by the knowledge a reconciliation is inevitable.

Its friendship beneath the passion.

Real love is passion and horror. It knows that for every night of passion, there will be 10 nights when your snoring, quilt hogging, and restless, boiling-hot skin will drive them batty. And it still wants to sleep next to you—regardless.