I grew up with the idea that you’re not real. You don’t exist. That you’re just a tale society created to give them hope. But as I grew older, I started to notice how my perspective shifted. I would watch how mothers cradle their loved ones to give them comfort. Or how people would sacrifice their own feelings just so another would be happy. I noticed how love blooms in every one of us; in the tiniest gestures, at the darkest of times. I know now that we cannot escape you. That you are a blessing and a curse, who should be welcomed when come, and let go when leave.
Dear Love,
