What is Love? No, really.

This is a little tiny, or not so tiny, rant to myself or to whoever may be reading this. Just another warning note, this is a rant.

In a Facebook note, my friend said that love controls us. We are happy when we are with a person we love, but we are sad when we are not. We go so far for love. So should we keep on loving, or should we give up love?

I sometimes feel love restricts me. I don't know how I should act in front of the people I love. I don't know how to lie, I don't know how to tell the truth. I don't know what kind of show to put on in front of them. I don't want them to think I'm arrogant, foolish, mean-spirited.

And why do we only have one word for love? I love my Mom in a very different way than I love music. I love my boyfriend in a different way than I love my friends. Food, stuffed animals, sleeping, beach, sky, biking, swimming. I love them all, but my love for all those are different. The word love is so limited, but yet so broad. We need better vocabulary.



I, of course have no eyebrows. Is it a natural human behavior to pick out something bad for yourself in a photo? Anyways. I love this. That photo. Those awkward smiles. The dark gloominess outside the limousine window. Our formal attires. Us.


I love the time I spent with my friends. Though I'm not so friendly with all of them, I just love being with all of them. Different personalities and voices make me happy.


I love how my little sister is taking her time to wash the car, even though it's not dirty. I love how she got all the soap and the water ready, and is actually, modestly trying to wash the car. She's adorable.


I don't love stuffed animals that much. I love this because my little sister arranged all of them like a family, and took many family photos.


Good, I didn't rant as much as I thought I would. I guess love is too deep of a topic for me to rant about.