Love is a funny thing. nYou expect it to be easy. You expect it to be a world of roses and laughs and perfect moments that you find only nin movies. nnYou expect her to nalways say the right thing, and nalways know exactly how you feel, nor exactly how to react to it. nYou expect her to calm you down when you're yelling or to chase you nwhen you run away.nnYou expect so much that you feel entirely, and utterly defeated when something doesn't exactly match up to all your plans. But that's the thing. n nLove isn't a plan. It doesn't have na certain beginning and it ncertainly has no end, or a visible nfinish line to those deeply in it.nnLove happens; it is so nincredibly messy. People around nyou can't comprehend why you do nthe things you do, or why you nfight so hard for something that nseems to cause you so much pain.n nBecause simply, they can't see. nThey can't see the invisible ring nof insanity that surrounds you nwhen you're in love. It's ninconvenient and painful and ndevastating at times, but we can't nlive without it. nnWhat you don't learn is how hard love is. How much work it takes. How much of ourselves we have to put into it. nHow it isn't worth it until we are ncomplete and utter idiots about it.nnLove isn't her calming you ndown when you yell. It's her nyelling, just as loud, just as nhard, right back at you, right in nyour face to wake you up and to nkeep you grounded.nnIt isn't her or him bringing you roses neveryday or cute things that make nyour relationship appear more npresentable. It's right after a long nfight, that drains the life and nbones right out of both of you, and nyet her or him showing up at your door the next morning anyway.nnIt's not her saying all the right things or knowing exactly how to handle you. So no, it's not her caressing your nhair and telling you everything is ngoing to be okay. It's her nstanding there, admitting she's njust as scared as you are.nnYou have to remember that with love, you're not the only one involved. nYou've unknowingly put your life, nyour heart into the palm of nanother's hands and saying, nhere. Do what you will. Mash it ninto a million pieces, mash it into meat. Or forget I ever handed it to you in the first place. Just as long as you nhave it. nnIt makes reality invisible and it nerases all the lines that we nshouldn't cross. Because love nisn't about fencing ourselves in; nfeeling safe, feeling sure about nthe future.nnIt's about scaring the shit out of every nerve in our body, but pushing forward anyway.n nBecause all the fighting and all nthe tears and all the uncertainty nis worth it. And it's a hell of a nlot better, than being 100% happy nwithout someone to show us that nthere is a world of a difference nbetween feeling 'happy' and nfeeling whole.