Love isn’t always red roses and pink hearts. It’s not always tied with a bow and its truth is never fully expressed on birthdays and anniversaries. It has a really ugly side we like to hide because it’s not presentable or packageable.
Sometimes love is Febreezing a room to cover up the stink of the grosser parts of life. Sometimes love means getting caught red-handed so the black streaks of tears running down your face can remind you of the authentic beauty that resides underneath the fake.
Sometimes love means fully committing to loving yourself (or committing to learning to) before you can commit to loving another. It’s the struggle to understand deep down that you’re worth loving, without having to prove it. Sometimes it means not having to love everybody – especially when you want their approval.
Sometimes love is a complicated apology to yourself as you look at your scars and say, “Damn it, how’d you get there? You really suck, but thank you. In the end, you did teach me a lot. ”
Sometimes love has to squeeze between the petty fights, shallow apologies, dirty diapers on the floor, boring days, Facebook addictions, doctors appointments, scraping boogers off walls and those horrible, inescapable toxic farts under the sheets. Sometimes it means spending time apart so the distance can give you both the opportunity to collect new thoughts and experiences to share.
Sometimes love requires no explanation. It just lives in the ordinary cracks of our seemingly seamless lives. Sometimes love looks very attractive, and sometimes it’s just fugly. But in both cases, it’s still love that fills our cracks and glues us together.