Love, as cliche as it may sound, is a complicated word to define. There is no one meaning, instead what you have is interconnected descriptions, in pictures of black and white and shades of gray. There is nothing about love that should hurt 90 percent of the time, there is nothing about love that is controlling or possessive, there is nothing about love that is obsessive, demanding, and conditional. The only kind of ‘love’ that existed was the hunger for destruction. Love anorexia. Skinny love. But at the end of the day, it was still love wasn’t it? Just on a whole different shallow level.
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