There are two kinds of love, the cliché, floating on a cloud love, and real love. Real love is a rarity, but when it’s there, it’s magic, it’s like nothing you’ve ever witnessed before. It’s the real love that drives people insane, the search relentless and unnerving, the road tedious and heartbreakingly long, but when you find that love it’s like a firework against the black sky, the light popping and bursting with colors and magic sparks. Real love is like pixie dust drifting with the breeze, the magic and wonder touching each being it passes, transforming the barren and loveless emptiness into a mystifying wonderland of hope and cheer. Real love is the kind of thing that people die searching for. Real love is the kind of thing that’s unheard of, almost too good to be true. Real love is just a fairytale until someone comes along, reduces the masked perfection to a dust dainty enough to be thought of as invisible, and forces the picture of true, unadulterated love in our faces as we weep in the presence of its magical and moving beauty. That’s the kind of love everyone searches for. That’s the kind of love every dreams about.



Love isn’t about the sex or the material things, no. Love is about the connection and the emotion one can feel when with another person, the person you feel so strongly about. Love is about the way you can’t wrap your head around how you could feel so strongly for another human being that it almost hurts. Love is about knowing that no matter what you do, someone else will be there for you, there to help and guide you, there to show you the light at the end of the dark, the rainbow at the end of the storm. Love is about having won the greatest prize in the world and knowing that someone else feels the exact same way about you. Love is about truth and honesty and the way that lies separate two people, but it doesn’t matter because you have none, you need none.



You can’t replicate true love; you can’t package it and sell it. You can’t ask Santa for love on your Christmas list. True love comes from within the soul, the mind, the heart. Like matter, love cannot be created nor destroyed, but morphed from respect and care, from knowledge and growth. True love isn’t instantaneous or easy to find, it takes dedication and hope, knowledge and wealth, but not money, wealth of the mind and body. You can’t define true love; it’s different for everyone, the feeling, the emotion, the longing and need. True love cannot be put into a box with predefined beginnings and resolutions, because no one knows where true love begins, and it never truly ends. True love can’t be labeled.



True love is about the way you feel with your body pressed tightly against someone else’s and not feeling the need to go beyond the romantic contact. True love is about the way your heart flutters like a schoolgirl even after you have them within your reach. True love is about the burning sensation you feel when their skin touches yours, when their lips grace yours with no urgency but the illusion of all the time in the world. True love is about the feeling like someone else’s life is more important than yours, the feeling that they mean more to you than you do. True love is about the selflessness you feel even when you have the right to care more about yourself instead of everyone else.



True love is something that we search for to no avail because we’ve been looking in all the wrong places. True love is something that doesn’t reside within the mind of heart, but the soul. The difference between love and real love isn’t the length you’ve felt it or the imagery you use to describe it, the difference is the way you react to each touch, the way you’re lost without it. True love is about the emotion, not the label. If it’s true love it doesn’t need to be labeled. In true love you only need the people and the emotion, everything else is just icing on the cake. True love requires no definition.