Love is such an incredible thing. We all have this idea of what love is fed to us throughout our lives; when we are birthed into this world, we experience love, see love, are taught about love. But it's hardly captured properly, I think, in books and films and other things.

    See, loving another person is almost an undescribable thing. I know that I would do anything and everything, change anything and everything, be anything and everything for for the person I love. When I first started dating my boyfriend, he called himself by a different name. A society-deemed "feminine" name.

    His whole life, everyone referred to him as a girl. Told him he was a girl. They made him behave accordingly, and told him it was wrong to act the way he wanted. They mocked him for displaying any sort of behavior that was deemed "unladylike". He learned to not trust them because they refused to be what they needed to be: supportive.

    I started hanging out with him when he still identified as a girl. At the time, he still presented as a female, but despite me being gay, I became instantly captivated by him.

    We had been friends on the internet for a long time leading up to actually spending time together. We had a foundation, we had stories to tell and memories to share. I remember there being a spark; it didn't happen when I first saw him, for I did not fall in love with his appearance. The spark happened when I began interacting with him and realized that he made my heart happy in ways that NO ONE had EVER been able to achieve.

    We started dating. At the time, I was out as "bisexual". I use quotations only because I'm actually gay, not because bisexuals don't exist. My family accepted him, but believed him to be a girl. Hell, I believed him to be a girl. A masculine one, but still a female. But then he went through this period where he identified as gender fluid, and then, eventually, came out to me as being fully Transgender.

    I'm an accepting guy. My heart, as well as my mind, is open to so many things. It didn't matter to me that his body would be changing, for I hadn't fallen in love with the body in the first place. I am gay; I seeked him out not for his body, but for the person behind the mask, who loved me unconditionally and aided me through all of my life's struggles, of which there are many. I accepted him, calling him by his pronouns, his new name, and doing my best to make him comfortable.

    I experienced fear, but only because his body and voice - which I'd grown so accustomed to - would be changing once he began transition. I was worried that he would become unfamilliar; but one thing doesn't change: a person's heart.

    Ultimately, I learned that it's my duty to be there for him always; I learned that my love needs to be steadfast and that it can't waver. He needs me just as much as I need him; we serve as life-lines for each other, and can only thrive with each other.

    Love, to me, is blind to gender. Although I'm gay, and am only attracted to the male body, I fell in love with a biological female. I knew that I could spend my life with him like that, a woman, because I cared infinitely about him. Now, I know he is a man, and nothing has changed.

    I will encourage him and support him until my light stops. And even then I hope he clutches onto me, hears my voice in his ear when he's burdened, and knows that I loved him unquenchably and irrevocably.

    That's love.