Love.

Love. If you look the meaning of this word in the dictionary, it means a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. Sexual passion or desire. Sweet heart. It covers a wide range of meaning. But sometimes, we don't need to ask Mr. Webster for the true meaning of love. All we need to do is find it ourselves. Love isn't always about affection, sexual passion and infatuation. If you look deeper, Love means doing the thing you really hate as long it means doing it with the person you love. It means sacrificing without expecting something in return. It's Love when you became a better person everyday.


I've encountered so many couples. drowning each other with their so called "love". drenching themselves with promises. Bathing their inner selves with expectations. They seemed to be complete and there's nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, time flies and their love fades. Their so called "love" is gone. Their promises are broken. Their expectations, destroyed. Instead, they drowned each other with not so good words. They drench themselves with tears. And they bathe their thoughts with the memories of the past. Let's face it. Love really hurts and it hurts like hell. It's not easy to move on. But its part of love and life.

Another thing, love has no boundaries. It doesn't matter if you're pretty or not, rich or poor, skinny or fat. Physical appearance and social status will never be the criteria for loving. Even wild beasts fell in love. Even bad girls and boys deserve to be loved.

Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. You and the person you love had it, you had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from your branches you both found that you were one tree and not two.