Love is not always what we all want it to be. Love is picky and has its own mind. Love is a fair and foul game that can show the best of everything, sometimes of visions that we never ever want to see. It is a mover of big mountains and a thinker of great dreams. Love can pull us out of our deepest pits and can fix our broken wings. Love can open our eyes and make us see the morrow. It can remind us of that sad day when we all shall leave this mortal plane.
We don't limit ourselves to think that love is all that I have said. Because love has too many meanings that one cannot generalize the whole significance of love on its own.
In the end, love is like beauty.
For beauty cannot be explained.
It shines like the moon at the end of every day. It goes up to the sky with all the stars and hangs with a pretty smile on her face.
Love is definite. But it is not.
That is the reality of love.
Shuichi dropped his pencil and read what he done out loud
He smiled and left the room.
When he came back later, the paper was gone and all that was left was the pencil he used to write his literary piece.
(SPACE HERE)
"…Love is definite, but it is not"
He sat on his swivel chair and tried to deny the grin that crept up his face nonetheless.
"That is the reality of love"