At first I thought love was about sexy shower scenes and fetching newspapers.
Then I thought love was about camping out in a tent.
For a long time I thought love was about finding a compatible companion.
Now I don’t think I knew anything about love.
The only thing I’ve learned in 38 years – and the closest I may have come to love – is in genuinely wishing happiness for another person. That, to me, at this very moment, seems to be the best definition of loving someone else: wanting their happiness more than anything else, even if it means letting them go.
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