In philosophy class, we were talking about love. Can it make you happy? Is it real? What is love? I have been pondering over it since. Love isn't always romantic, it is platonic and familial, it is late night talks, it is gifts and hugs and "I miss you"s. It is stargazing, music, and a thousand other things. But what is it? Isn't the love and happiness I feel when listening to a good song the same as when I kiss my grandma?
So I asked people. Some didn't believe in it. Some loved too easily, too eagerly. My father talked about dopamine and asked "What is happiness? What is love?". He said, "We are too human to know". One said that waiting is loving, another replied that if you are waiting, the love is not reciprocated. I came to conclude that love is a very personal, very human thing.
At lunch today, I think I understood this concept a little better. The people I love the most were sitting in front of me. Happy, safe, and content. I now understand why people say they could kill and die for their lover ones. Four humans I love more than anything were sitting in front of me. And I fell for them even more. I realized the type of love, the reasons behind it, or the philosophical questions behind it. None of that matters when they are in front of me, laughing.
Love is them, and they are everything. Love is me, and my heart aching, living for them. And this is my answer to the big question of love.
