What love is

I won't claim at this point that I've figured completely and totally what love is..but from my point of view I think, I think..I know. Love is sacrifice. Love is giving. Love is the most ideal when it occurs two ways. Love is caring. Love is being able to be yourself. Love is being able to be silly.

I think when it comes to this whole fiasco of going overseas, of following my dreams and everything else that goes along with it - the bad dreams, the money involved, the long telephone conversations that are required by ME, the panic attacks, the anxiety and nervous attacks, the breakdowns, the depression, the crying - it's my family that bears the most. When I come shattered and absolutely torn, stressed and in pieces, in them I've got warm loving arms to run to, I've got crappy jokes to make me laugh, I've even got a place to just cry. That what love is. And I can feel it emitting everytime and everywhere. In them too, I find the strength to carry on, to sound me out and hit me with that bout of reality that I sometimes miss.

Then of course, there are those precious precious precious friends. Who I'm sure are starting to wonder if I, yes moi is turing psycho from all that studying I'm doing and all that caffeine I'm ingesting. Who condones my crazy wants like karaokeing, coffe-ing, tea-ing and of course NYDC ugly cake-ing. Yes. I think this is what love is.

I know when I head back to Melbourne I might feel sucky, whiny and am crying all the time. I know sometimes when I come back home the place feels so foreign and strange, as if I've been away for 10 years and everyone has carried on, completely forgetting. But I think I will get my strength in those that have been sent, from those who love me and want to see me succeed and happy.