What Do I Know?


What do I know about love?

Not much.

Love to me, when I was a little girl, is when my father cooks my favorite food even if it is the least of his favorites. It is when my mother chooses to beat me with a stick rather than a baseball bat. It is when my sister smacks me then gives me something special to say sorry. It is when I patiently baby sit my little brother even if I too needs a little baby sitting as well.

Simply and naively, not much.

Love to me, when I was growing up, is when roses were sent secretly with scented love letters. It is when my heart skips a beat every single time that one person catches my eyes. It is when a smile, and nothing but a smile, can be let out rather than words. It is when I feel like fairy tales and love songs were made just for me.

Compulsively, not much.

Love to me, when I think I have grown enough, is when my list of priorities includes a name and not just things to do and to achieve. It is when one person can never measure up to any other. It is when all feelings are summed up together into one person. It is when time is too short and too long. It is when things suddenly belong to both sides of a spectrum. It is when I just don’t want to grow old with that person but to grow up with him.

Deeply, not much.

Love to me, when I am with you, is going through knowing that I simply, naively, compulsively and deeply don’t know much about love but still I know…not much but I do.




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