Sometimes I make my own head spin, thinking that I don’t know what love truly is. My mothers idea of love is so warped by the way she was ill treated and raised. So in turn I don’t feel like I know what love truly is. For me my mothers love has shown that to love is to forgive, but to a fault. To love until you’re black and blue because the other person may not truly love you, but you’re devoted either way.
My love is movies and books and old love songs. Things not based in reality 100% of the time. An idealized love without complications. Just happy endings and wind swept hair.