I’ve experienced a few types of love so far. Each one distinct and different.
I’ve had the innocent love, with stories and ‘one day’s. It started my pursuit for ‘true love’.
I’ve had the convinced love; I was convinced that I loved and not to argue it. It tore me up and broke me down.
I’ve been ‘in love’. It truly was movie material: passion, pain, completion, and emptiness. It taught me so much about myself.
I’ve broken a heart so close to me, a best friend I am so lucky to still have. They looked at me with more love than I’ve ever seen, but I couldn’t feel the same. I’m still unsure if it was my fear of falling again or my disinterest of the entire feeling.
And currently I have the silent love. We don’t exchange ‘I love you’s, but we have such stability and authenticity. It lacks a certain fire but holds high level of reality. I’m sure we love each other in some way; however, we both don’t dare admit it for some reason.