Lol oh ya I know ALOT about that, I think almost every relationship Ive had was a love/hate one.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Hard to beat isn't it? Impossible for me to live up to . . .

yep well its just i've seen so many people who were in "love" and then they're the same ones who turn out hating each other.

Love? I knew it once...but now, I don't know.

Once, I was immersed in it. Drowning in it. Accepting its ebb and flow, whether it floods my awareness, rains and showers upon me, or is the gently clinging mist of weeks of years together without a need for more than each other. Happy togetherness whether the moments or days are happy or not; more than companionship---commitment, faith in each other, fidelity to US...bravely marching on to the crippling effects of life, foreseeing that "til death do us part" is for real.
For the end of it is death; the kernel of life that remains then must be buried, healed, kept safe, moistened with care, warmed to grow again towards the daylight of new life and new love.

It will only be the first love, one time. Fresh and young and new to life, the first love blooms so bright and strong. It's end should be a bloody violent sudden death, to end prolonged suffering.

Here...for the most part...second, third, and fourth loves are possible. All the loves before now are a burden upon our future. We are not the young, free-spirited, unblemished, pure-of-heart and innocent people. We respect the scars, know the heartache, cringe with the same shattered trust and defend against being shortchanged.
I think that we develop a relationship without it intending to be love; being kin by our past and our compassion upon each other now; brothers and sisters of a sort, together by choice rather than by birth.
Some of these people might attend my funeral, or at least mention me in a prayer, without feigning that they loved me. Whereas I expect no such love from relatives, none of whom ever knew me.
This comraderie is thus the fulfillment of love, for mere human kindness would not generate such a bond as grows herein.
The gently clinging mist that I spoke of is here, in wisps and shreds, moistening the soil wherein my kernel of life lies waiting.
Love is here. A kind of love.
IMO

True love does not come by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly. Jason Jordan

I think that is the definition for me...

Love is the feeling I have for someone that allows me to cherish not only everything loveable about them, but also the unloveable stuff, too. After all, we all have it...unloveable stuff. It's more than just caring for someone in spite of himself, too. It's accepting the whole person, good and not so good...cherishing all of who a person is...even the less than appealing parts.

Love? I knew it once...but now, I don't know.

Once, I was immersed in it. Drowning in it. Accepting its ebb and flow, whether it floods my awareness, rains and showers upon me, or is the gently clinging mist of weeks of years together without a need for more than each other. Happy togetherness whether the moments or days are happy or not; more than companionship---commitment, faith in each other, fidelity to US...bravely marching on to the crippling effects of life, foreseeing that "til death do us part" is for real.
For the end of it is death; the kernel of life that remains then must be buried, healed, kept safe, moistened with care, warmed to grow again towards the daylight of new life and new love.

It will only be the first love, one time. Fresh and young and new to life, the first love blooms so bright and strong. It's end should be a bloody violent sudden death, to end prolonged suffering.

Here...for the most part...second, third, and fourth loves are possible. All the loves before now are a burden upon our future. We are not the young, free-spirited, unblemished, pure-of-heart and innocent people. We respect the scars, know the heartache, cringe with the same shattered trust and defend against being shortchanged.
I think that we develop a relationship without it intending to be love; being kin by our past and our compassion upon each other now; brothers and sisters of a sort, together by choice rather than by birth.
Some of these people might attend my funeral, or at least mention me in a prayer, without feigning that they loved me. Whereas I expect no such love from relatives, none of whom ever knew me.
This comraderie is thus the fulfillment of love, for mere human kindness would not generate such a bond as grows herein.
The gently clinging mist that I spoke of is here, in wisps and shreds, moistening the soil wherein my kernel of life lies waiting.
Love is here. A kind of love.
IMO

Love doesn't sit there like a stone,it has to be made,remade all the time,made new. -Ursula K LeGuin

It means nothing to me sad to say.

Love doesn't sit there like a stone,it has to be made,remade all the time,made new. -Ursula K LeGuin