What Is Love, Really?
They say they love love. They say it like it’s sunlight,warm, effortless, obvious. Like it’s laughter that spills without permission. Like it’s butterflies that never die. I hear them, and I wonder if we are speaking the same language. Because love, to me, has never felt light. Love feels like standing barefoot on sacred ground, aware that every step could awaken something buried. Love feels like a hand gently touching scars you forgot you had, not to hurt you, but to remind you they’re still healing. People say they love love. But love terrifies me. It terrifies me because love is not a feeling you visit; it is a door you walk through and it locks behind you. Love demands things. Not flowers or poems or pretty words, those are just decorations on its altar. Love demands strength: the kind that keeps showing up when your pride wants to leave. Love demands humility: the kind that sits you down and says, “Look at yourself. Not the version you perform. The real one.” Love dema...