It's nothing like you'd expect it to be. It's losing your breath and it's losing sleep. It's waiting. Love is being vulnerable. Love is still getting nervous a year later. It's whiskey and wine. Love is letting someone in on all the people who have ever left you out. Love is telling someone where it hurts and them telling you why. Love is forgiving. Love is trying harder to better your other half more than your own. Love is staying in bed all day. Love is the cold of a fan against the warmth of a body. Love is skin. Love is child-like and everything but. Love, the right kind, is passion-filled, and it's overwhelming. Love is feeling yourself submerge and being ready to go under. Love is heavy. It's also light. Love is having someone know where you're coming from. Love is loving their bed more than your own. Love is becoming fond of the sound of snoring and the look of glasses and the feeling of carrying on tradition. Love is taking care of others when you need taking care of the most. Love is staying quiet. It's being passive. It's also speaking up. Love is choosing the sunrise or the sunset. Love is making plans for the future and the anticipation of seeing them through. Love is resilient, and it doesn't forget. Love is a muscle memory. It has phases and there's always a story.
The best thing about love is the feeling.