Chapter XXXIV, where Adele thinks about love

I read something the other day. It was some girl's post about love. I think she asked what it was and I just couldn't stop thinking about it because no one dared to answer the question. So I came up with a list of possible definitions.

1. Love is


a cute little dog.
A cute little puppy that lies down on your lap and gets absolutely happy when you get home, even if you were out for lke, 5 minutes, to take out the garbage. That bring his toys to you when you cry and that licks all your face because tears are salty. That plays with a little sock just like a Mutts character. (oh, my little pink sock!). That's love.

2. Love is Paul Auster. Being totally scared sometimes, because things are pretty scary and not like, Booo!, I'm a monster that got out of your closet or hides under your bed. Not a cute fluffly blue little monster or a green one-eyed one. Worse than that. Worse than, say, having sex with a priest and becoming a headless mule. Sometimes life is just a bunch of very scary shit, if you ask me, and you decide you're going to try stuff and jump off a cliff and tadah, love saves you at the last minute. That's beautiful. Too beautiful.

3. Love is giving it another try. Because you can get fucked over by what happens in your life -big time. And then you think 'what the fuck? Why the fuck doesn't anything work out for me?'. Then you spend time mournig, hurting, and thinking 'life is so not fucking fair!', and after that you think 'okay, everything is okay now, or most of it'. Kind of like when you get hurt and have ice cream. Your favorite flavor.

4. Love for a woman or a man, I don't know about that. I think it's a mixture of please come sleep next to me + I love how you smell + take off your clothes right now! + trust (we trust that we won't get disappointed, we do get disappointed, we trust we will get over it somehow) + a lot more. We want so many things from whom we love, we demand so much, and we always want so much more. And if the person we love loves us back, we get it. Because love is giving yourself. I think that is it. Love is wishing for more, hoping; it is wanting more and more. But not always.