I’ve known what love is since the night I was conceived. With that act, my parents tried to mend what had been broken between them, but 5 years later it just didn’t work. I’ve known what love was since I was 3 and my sister stepped in front of my mother and threatened to kill her if she ever laid a hand on me. My brother taught me what love was when he always put others before himself emotionally and financially even when he was struggling to pay for college. My father taught me what love is when he showed my step mom for the first time, that love isn’t found at the back of a man’s hand when he’s in a fit of rage, but at the tips of his lips when he pulls her in for an embrace, because he wouldn’t ever let anything harm her. And she taught me what love is when she wouldn’t look at me because we were too nervous to make eye contact. She taught me that love is never giving up, and fighting for each other even when it seems like the whole world is against us. And she taught me that no matter what, when I wanted to find my way back home, it’d always be wherever she was.
I know what love is.
This. Holy shit. This