This thing called love: it is real.

I know. I’ve felt it. It’s like I want to merge with you.

One minute I’m at yoga, the next I’m in your bedroom.

But is it love or is it lust? Now I don’t even know. Is love more like the thing that endures it all than it is this deep, burning desire to merge? Is love more about enduring the struggles, the pains, the mundane, the grumpy passive aggressive comment because you’re older and now your back aches? Is love not the sweaty, hot and heavy passionate kisses and ravishing embraces that just makes you want to be swallowed by someone else’s soul? Is that a different type of love? Or is it all part of the same package? I don’t know.