Someone once told me, „Real love can be so easy“ and I thought ‘ if it’s easy, it’s not real’.
I did not understand what he meant when he said:
„True love is what’s worth fighting for“,
but why to fight, if it’s so easy?
No matter how I turned it and turned it, it did not seem to fit together.
The dramatic love story, going to be easy?
A fight for something, that is so down-to-earth?
There was probably a difference between „true“ and „real” love, I thought.
„Love is easy, hate is hard,“ I read somewhere.
Truly, hate was exhausting and wild.
Not desirable. Simple love, on the other hand, or just love, was, what everyone wants.
I knew one thing for sure: I could not find it.
It had to find me for sure.
For a brief moment, I thought I was found. „Simple Love“, it was pleasant, like a cool
breeze, on a hot summer day. I wanted to keep it close.
Until I did not want it anymore, the friendship that was not Love at all.
On our day, the day of „true, real and simple love“,
I did not know what was waiting for me. Didn’t look for it.
My instincts, far from acceptable. I was unable to find anything, for sure.
But there he stood, my love. The truth.
The love worth fighting for.
Easy, because loving him, is easy as breathing.
A fight, so much bigger than myself, than us.
The certainty, that our love will always be greater.
A force. Simple, easy as breathing. Worth fighting.