Love. It's such a simple one syllable word. What's so complicated right? The dictionary defines love as "a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection" To everyone love means a different thing. Love can be associated with a person thing or place. Love can mean sex. Love can be your deep craving for pizza. Love is a word that has a million meanings and associations, love has no bounds. Growing up reading was a passion of mine and still is. I would read about these characters falling head over heels for each other and living happily ever after with only having maybe a solid five to ten chapter of conflict in their relationship. These books I read and tv and movies made me think I knew what love was, how love was suppose to happen. I can say for sure now love is not what I read in my books or what I see on my screen. Love is more than a one syllable word. Love is hard. Love is tears of happiness and sadness. Love is a rollercoaster of ups, downs, twists, turns, sudden stops, and going 90 miles per hour. Love isn't always a storybook romance.

In high school I wasn't into the whole casual dating scene. I was different than most, wanting to pursue a career in the arts rather than do something practical like nursing or teaching. Writing and books were my passion. While other people my age were being typical teenagers and living the high school life I was somewhere with my nose stuck in a book, typing away on my laptop my next big writing idea, or at drama club rehearsals covered in paint. Safe to say I stayed away from dating, not because no one interested me but because I didn't want to waste my time in a meaningless relationship. I knew what I wanted. I knew who I wanted. I wanted a creative soul like me who would understand and value my artistic expressions. I craved a boy like in one of my books. I had this romantic notion of my first boyfriend being the one and only love of my life. When my first boyfriend did come along I thought I got what I always wished to have. Happily ever after.

From the first moment I saw him I instantly had a huge crush on him. We didn't actually talk and officially meet till a year or two later. But as soon as we first started talking I knew in my gut that this was the guy. I instantly fell for him....hard. A tall dark and handsome guy like out of one of my books, who was just as creative as me. This was the guy I was waiting for, that I dreamed about every night. We were two kids who were filled with passion for their dreams and finally had another person to have passion for.

It started out perfect. He said the right things. He wanted to be with me 24-7. He would buy me flowers and text me cute messages. This was my definition of love at the time. I thought it would be perfect forever. That we were on the path of life together of kids and marriage. He very quickly became a huge role in my life. His family became my family and I became very much in love with him. What was perfect slowly turned into a whirlwind of ups and downs. Breakups and makeups. Horrible words exchanged to thoughtful messages. A never ending cycle. We're magnets, no matter how far we stray we always come back to each other.

When I was with him my books became dusty, my journals were hidden away. The ideas that would once be flying around in my head 24/7 were no where to be found. My independence turned into dependence. My sky high confidence of knowing who I was turned into seeking approval from someone. Instead of solving my own problems I looked to him to fix them and tell me all the right things to make me feel better. My attitude and determination I once had to reach my big dreams became fuzzy and disoriented. My happy smile I showed were tears on my pillow at night. Feeling stable with him led to me second guessing his feelings and overanalyzing words said to me and actions done. From flowers and passion to nothing but a slight flame. I thought love was complete selflessness. I believed love to always be passion and fireworks . My books got it wrong. When I didn't have him anymore I realized how lost I become, how my identity was a mystery. I realized love isn't always what you think it's suppose to be. I was in love with the idea of love. I believed love was suppose to be all consuming. But it shouldn't be so consuming you lose yourself in the process. Reflecting on all of this made me realize that in fact to me love is something simple.

From experiencing heartbreak and learning lessons about love I know now that I view love in a different way. I view love as loving yourself. Being completely yourself and living life how you choose to. Love is never settling for less then what you deserve. Love to me now isn't a person. To me it's the books on my shelves, it's the experiences I get to have everyday, the life I'm blessed to have, my dreams and passions. Love is what you make it. I once viewed love with a person as a one and done deal but it isn't always and thats okay. Maybe I'm meant to be with someone who isn't my first love, but maybe I am and now just isn't our time. I don't know what is going to happen. Does anyone? But to me love starts with myself. And I ask of all of you reading, what does love mean to you?