love is hard. really hard. and sometimes you’re unhappy and sometimes you’re delirious with it and...

love is hard. really hard. and sometimes you’re unhappy and sometimes you’re delirious with it and sometimes the person you love is near you but so far away that you don’t even want to touch them incase you break them out of whatever it is that they’re inside of. sometimes that’s not you. sometimes it’s not always you and them, sometimes there’s hundreds of other people pressed against the glass of it, smudging it with their fingers. sometimes they are cold and you are tired and you don’t even want to touch each other because there’s been too much touching and it’s not what they need or want. love is sometimes the shaking cat in the back garden that does not want you but needs you. sometimes it’s every sunrise you’ve ever seen blurred into one. it just depends.