isn't that a funny word?
what does it even mean?
of course, you could look it up. read it in a dictionary, or have the meaning light up on pixels in a machine. but that machine has never felt love. and neither has the book, even though it had its wings spread much longer. it doesn't know love.
so why does it get you to tell you the answer?
one could say love is taught. something you see throughout your life, something someone does when their love makes their blood rush with danger and their heart swoon with affection. but there are no class rooms for love, or one kind of love. love is in every house, every different house, every different person. there's rough love, there's kind love. there's unrequited love, there's even languages of love.
but if someone was never taught, then why do they feel love?
some people don't know love. some people have never been loved. they feel the need to find it, to tear their skin open and bleed, to use their insides as ink to write out their utmost feelings to the ones they need to feel love from.
but that's not what love is.
so, i ask again,
what does it even mean?
what is love?
love never fits into one place. it's a mess, it oozes into every corner of the word and consumes. it takes and makes, it infects, it breaks, it burns. but it's needed as air to lungs, as life to death. and it's beautiful.
there could never be one love, no matter how morphed and molded it is. no matter how felt, no matter how expressed, no matter how reciprocated. platonic or romantic, organized or spilled, exploding or contained. it could never be uniform no matter the unity.
love is fluid. love mends as much as it harms. it fits everyone uniquely.
that's all i know there is to love.
"Defining Love"
By Froggie
June 23rd of 2026
