my lucky valentine
Someone once asked me how I knew what love was, and initially I didn’t know how to go about answering that. I mustered up all my courage (because love is a wholly courageous entity), and I told them that love was like nothing that could be explained, nothing that is logical or sound. The feeling makes everything bleary and sweet, without beginning or end, without cause or justification. The emotions within you are magnified to the extent in which tastes are colors, sights have sounds, music plays within empty rooms. You know that you love someone when you are aware of their faults, every last one, and regardless of any of these shortcomings, the mere thought of them brings you to tears. You would die for them without question, without any thought of yourself. They are you and you are them. They are the mirror that you gaze into with every beating and lulling of your heart. This heartbeat is ever-present and in every substance imaginable, animate or not. It is wholly consuming, entirely powerful, and causes you to dream things that you never before imagined possible. Your soul is greeted with bells while the lilt of your heart echoes within your head.