“What is love?”

Love is the feeling of bliss

It’s the feeling of falling but never hitting the ground

It’s the feeling when you see someone for the first time and you feel as if you know everything about them

Love is the incredible sensation of fear and happiness

It keeps you up at night wondering

It fills your mind with endless possibilities

It makes you question if you’re sane anymore but it is an immaculate concept that happens once in a lifetime

Love is the sharp edge of a knife.

It cuts you to pieces that can’t be repaired

It leaves wounds that will forever bleed

And sometimes it’s like holding onto something that’s already gone.

Falling in love is wonderful until the moment it ends and that’s just the way it goes.

Perhaps I’ll see you again. But maybe I won’t. Maybe that day was the last. Maybe you don’t know something is ending until it’s over. Maybe love, perhaps is like matter. It can never truly be created or truly be destroyed.

Love isn’t something you can look for. It isn’t something you can find in just _any_ someone. Love is already written in the stars, clandestine in nature, laid out in something certain like concrete. Love is already predetermined. You have to find a _certain_ someone to find love.

I never believed in soulmates but I’m thinking now, that maybe I do.

((Listened to Waltz in C minor and Valse Sentimentale No. 2 while writing))