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Description
Love is just the word we give to the explosion of our hearts that engulfs every little thing we ever get to see, like standing in an airport looking back to see your friends for one last time but seeing instead a thousand faces and not one of them you know. And of course it hurts to say goodbye but atleast it means there was ever a reason to miss someone. And though it hurts at night to know that the day has only just begun where they are, it's always nice in the afternoon to think that they can already see the stars.

Love is sitting by a girl who's just been in a fight and is just breathing as tears strangle every word that tries to come out her throat. And while all the crowds buzz around her, she just sits there, and you don't know her well, and you don't know what's wrong, but you know that if you move away you've moved too fast. Love is late at night, trading texts with a girl who's holding herself close as though if she let go she'd fall right into pieces. Or maybe love is taking photos at a picnic on an Autumn day when everything's gone burnished and blonde and free.

Love is being with the people who are around you by an accident of longitude and latitude, smiling at the uncertainty of life.

Life is just the word we give to the mess of everything colliding. Like sitting on a hill one night trying to follow the headlights of a car a thousand miles in the distance and wondering who's behind the wheel, and what happened to them that day, and what would run through their mind as they went to sleep. And you stood up to walk away but felt the gravity of the city beneath your feet pull your soul towards it and it asks you to say sorry for all the things you've done. So you said that you'd be grace from now on. And you were.

And life is lying awake at night because you don't know what's next and so does no one else, and you just want something to hold onto but nothing's coming and in the morning you decide that that's okay. Life is that time between sending the letter away and when that person reads it, where everything you've said is somewhere, hanging between the two of you. Life is that time between flying away and arriving home. You feel like you don't exist, but you're flying.

Life is becoming a vegetarian for a month with your friend and then she can't keep going because she's allergic to raw fruit and vegetables but she's still one of the greatest people you've ever met, and you always seem to talk about her.

And love is living life so many times but never giving up.

Description
Love is just the word we give to the explosion of our hearts that engulfs every little thing we ever get to see, like standing in an airport looking back to see your friends for one last time but seeing instead a thousand faces and not one of them you know. And of course it hurts to say goodbye but atleast it means there was ever a reason to miss someone. And though it hurts at night to know that the day has only just begun where they are, it's always nice in the afternoon to think that they can already see the stars.

Love is sitting by a girl who's just been in a fight and is just breathing as tears strangle every word that tries to come out her throat. And while all the crowds buzz around her, she just sits there, and you don't know her well, and you don't know what's wrong, but you know that if you move away you've moved too fast. Love is late at night, trading texts with a girl who's holding herself close as though if she let go she'd fall right into pieces. Or maybe love is taking photos at a picnic on an Autumn day when everything's gone burnished and blonde and free.

Love is being with the people who are around you by an accident of longitude and latitude, smiling at the uncertainty of life.

Life is just the word we give to the mess of everything colliding. Like sitting on a hill one night trying to follow the headlights of a car a thousand miles in the distance and wondering who's behind the wheel, and what happened to them that day, and what would run through their mind as they went to sleep. And you stood up to walk away but felt the gravity of the city beneath your feet pull your soul towards it and it asks you to say sorry for all the things you've done. So you said that you'd be grace from now on. And you were.

And life is lying awake at night because you don't know what's next and so does no one else, and you just want something to hold onto but nothing's coming and in the morning you decide that that's okay. Life is that time between sending the letter away and when that person reads it, where everything you've said is somewhere, hanging between the two of you. Life is that time between flying away and arriving home. You feel like you don't exist, but you're flying.

Life is becoming a vegetarian for a month with your friend and then she can't keep going because she's allergic to raw fruit and vegetables but she's still one of the greatest people you've ever met, and you always seem to talk about her.

And love is living life so many times but never giving up.