She is not an option to be treated as a second round draft pick or to stand as a placeholder until you find something better.

She is a woman who knows how to stand alone and isn’t afraid to continue doing so.

She was an idealist, until past loves turned her soft, beautiful heart to stone.

Past loves have transformed her tender and childlike heart into that of a realist—a woman who has been burned.

She’s a woman who now fiercely guards her heart—a viking of love.

She loves to love, but she refuses to sacrifice pieces of herself in the name of anything that is not absolutely real. She isn’t looking for a knight in shining armor or a hero—she is looking for something organic, something raw. She seeks something that has the power to leave her broken, but adores her far too much to let her shatter.

She is the woman who has been hurt enough to know exactly what she deserves. She has felt through moments of absolute bliss what love is. And she has seen through tear-filled eyes what love isn’t. She has cried herself to sleep, each night, strengthening her tender, loving heart. She has invested too much time in the reconstruction of her heart to accept anything other than love in its purest form. She is looking for real, raw, beautiful, crazy love and she refuses to settle for anything less.

Love is not a pastime, but a privilege.

Love is not a hobby.

It is not something you are in search of to fill your time when boredom strikes. It is not the guitar you strum when you are bored and alone. It is the guitar you devote yourself to, the guitar you never tire of creating with. Love is the passion you stay in on a Friday night for and the skills you are never content with. Love is the one that can always be found worn proudly across your hip.

Love is not momentary. It is not the college job you settle for while you finish your studies. Love is the dream job you work so hard to achieve. Love is your career.

Love is not the romance. It is not simply the beauty. It is not the first dates, the ones where you put your best foot forward, striving to impress. It is not the fancy dinners or the nights where you are beautifully dolled up. Love is real, love is raw. Love is having a partner who understands your ugly and  who admires your scars. Love is being enamored by the things lovers of the past considered to be flaws.

Love is everything real—not just everything beautiful and easy.

Love is not skin deep. Love is not simply being stunned by the ever deteriorating outer beauty of another soul. Love is admiring someone’s thoughts and opinions. It is loving their deep, dark desires and fervently admiring their dreams and passions. Hanging off every idea and thought of theirs as if it may be their last. Love is being stunned by another’s soul.

Love is not seasonal. It is not a fair weather emotion. It is winter, spring, summer, and fall. Love is the perfect first days of spring—sitting in the warmth, being gently kissed by the rays while the breeze gently caresses your hair away from your shoulders. Love is going for a hike on a breezy, summer day and finding yourself caught in a hail storm. Love is driving the icy mountain roads in the winter without four-wheel drive. Love is admiring all of the beautiful colors of fall while hearing the fresh leaves crunch under your favorite boots. Love is not seasonal, love is every season.

Love is not merely an interest—the hobby you do on the weekends to occupy your time. Love is a privilege. Love is all consuming. Love is the passion that you pursue all week long.

Love is the beautiful moments and the tear soaked t-shirts. Love is your shoulder to cry on. The white t-shirt that is stained with mascara. The shoulder you crave when you feel alone. Your favorite place to rest your head and release your thoughts.

Love is your favorite home-cooked meal. The meal that comforts your soul. The meal you would choose to eat for the rest of your life if you had to.

Love is your favorite book. The one you can read a thousand times—each time discovering new things. Always finding new favorite parts. The book that is never the same no matter how many times you read it. Your favorite copy that you could never give away.

Love is not the movie you watch once and love with no intent to see again. Love is the movie you have seen a hundred times. The one that comforts you. The one that still makes you laugh and cry even though you can quote it verbatim. The one that somehow manages to surprise you in new ways each time you rewatch.

Love is your favorite Bible verse. The page you keep a post it note on for the days that you seek wisdom. The verse that lifts your burdened spirit and reminds your aching soul that everything is going to be okay.

Love is everything alluring and everything twisted.

Love is everything comforting yet everything dangerous.

Everything joyful and everything infuriating.

Love is not a pastime, love is a privilege.

A tragically beautiful privilege.

~

Author: Emily Cutshaw

Editor: Caitlin Oriel

Image: Christopher Campbell