It doesn’t feel like butterflies. It feels like stars are expanding and collapsing inside your lungs. It feels like a mind clouded until it’s not really your own anymore, until you can’t control the way your thoughts wander. It feels like peace in someone else’s heartbeat, and finding a home in a single hug. It doesn’t feel like your skin is on fire, it feels like it is fire, like you’ve become the flames that can finally freely dance in the air. It’s terrifying and wonderful, but I don’t think it’s really falling and that’s the most magical thing about it. I think true love, you walk into, with your eyes open and holding someone’s hand. You choose to let them in, to let them see bits of you that have been hidden for years, you choose to let them see the rawness that you fear. It’s being completely bare in front of another person, and yet feeling incredibly safe.
And I think you know you love them the first time you forgive something. The first time you realise that their mistakes, their imperfections, the wrong choices they made are something you can live with - you know you love them. And I guess that’s the tricky thing, because when do you stop forgiving? When do you need to start forgetting?