I don’t know what love is. I had ideas when I was young that mostly revolved around a palette of faded pastels, bittersweet acoustic songs, and the vague notion that love would be pretty and delicate and simple. I don’t think I had it right at all. I think it’s the opposite—ugly and messy and tough as gristle. It’s not a miracle, not a gift out of nowhere, not a vibe. You make it out of thin air, from nothing, by what you do.
