I do not think love is proven by how badly you need someone.
Need can be hunger.
Need can be fear.
Need can be the body mistaking loneliness for devotion.
Love is quieter than that.
It is not, “I cannot live without you.”
It is, “I could survive without you,
but the world would lose one of its colors.”
It is knowing the sun would still rise,
coffee would still warm your hands,
music would still play from passing cars,
and the sea would still throw itself against the shore.
But somehow, without them,
everything would taste less alive.
The mornings would arrive colder.
The songs would lose their honey.
The blue of the sky would look slightly unfinished.
Because some people do not simply enter your life.
They change the lighting.
They make ordinary rooms feel like old cinema.
They make rain sound like a love song.
They make silence feel less like emptiness
and more like two souls resting between words.
With them, even the smallest things become sacred.
One pair of earphones.
One shared laugh at dusk.
One hand brushing yours in a city full of strangers.
One look that says,
“I know exactly where your heart is standing.”
And maybe that is why love becomes dangerous.
Not because you cannot live without them.
But because you have seen what life looks like
with them in it.
Warmer.
Softer.
More golden at the edges.
And after that, how are you meant to pretend
you do not know the difference?
I could imagine a life without you.
But I do not want the version of myself who has to learn it.
