February is believed by some people, the month of love. Me? No really into that “love” thing. For me, shouldn’t it every single day is called a day of love, instead of agonizing a particular month? Staying with your lover or partner, despite everything you’ve been through, bad and good, isn’t that called love? Picking your mother from work and doing house work for her, isn’t that called love? Baking a cake for your sister’s birthday, isn’t that called love? Cooking breakfast every morning for your family, isn’t that called love? Texting your friends every morning, to make sure they know about the weather, in their work area, isn’t that called love? And many things we’ve encounter everyday that shows us, that is love.

What is love, then?

Love is when someone makes our stomach feel all tight but floaty at the same time, and full of butterflies. And our cheeks hurt from smiling too much because of their simple text, simple word, and little thing they did that we like, but we thought they weren’t listening to it (believe me, that was the cutest and wonderful thing when someone you love, turns out pay attention and remember all the details back then), and makes people wonder, what’s going on with us. Love is also a pain. A mysterious and annoying pain. But, in the same time, we want it, nevertheless how horrible you’ve felt. Love is also comforting and relaxing and sometimes, we don’t want to fell asleep, cause we’re afraid when we might not with them for a minute. And we don’t want that. We want to be with them, until we both fell asleep, even just to hear their voice for no reason at all. Love is also, when we didn’t care we did the weird things while we are with them. They completely accept us, no matter how weird we are, and also, they like it, the weird thing we have or did.

A first post in February, and suddenly talking about love. So, me.


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