i think love is when i put on a little makeup and do my hair even when i am sad, and i carry myself up the stairs even though my knees ache. i think love is the smallest decision to keep moving, even when every part of me begs to stop.
i think love is when i fix my bed and wash my face on the days i want to do nothing but sink into the mattress and disappear. it is the quiet ritual of telling myself i deserve clean sheets and cool water on my skin, even when i do not fully believe it.
i think love is when i buy myself boba tea when i am broke, and i trust that one day i will get myself back later. it is faith disguised as sweetness, a reminder that even in scarcity i can still offer myself something kind.
i think love is letting myself fall for someone, even though i am so afraid of what that could mean. love is a heavy thing, but it carries me as much as i carry it. it bends beneath the weight of fear and longing, yet somehow it still holds.
and maybe love is not only in the grand gestures or the once-in-a-lifetime vows. maybe it is in these quiet, ordinary choices. the way i keep reaching for myself in small ways, again and again. the way i whisper, without saying it out loud, that i am worth the effort.














