The feeling is a funny thing. Love. It feels weird to say it. Love. It's always associated with such a seriousness. I always thought I knew what it was, that I could pin it down to the handful of words. A one-liner. It not that simple. If you think it is, you're stupid. There's a whole cast of thoughts behind the idea of love. There are different kinds, different meanings, and different sets of feelings that come with each.
Whatever, I think I love her. Claire. And as time goes by, I do so more and more. And what's more I think she loves me back. She needs me, I think. And that's something I've never felt before. Not in love. And I think I like it. Like some purpose with companionship laid out in front of me. Like a slow predictable story arc, no amazing twists or anything. Except I have no idea what's going to happen. That familiar dread isn't there. Just reality. And good living.
Love is good living.
