Love, as they sell it to us, is not love. It's a transaction dressed in silk. But real love? Real love is still an exchange — just not the kind they warn you about.
That's the exchange. And it's the only kind of love worth the risk. exchange love
You see, to love someone is to hand them a map of your softest places. Your fears. Your midnight thoughts. The version of you that doesn't show up for interviews or first dates. And in return, they hand you their own trembling map. And then you both choose — every single day — not to weaponize what you've been shown. Love, as they sell it to us, is not love
And the terrible, beautiful truth? You never get equal. Some days you give 90 and receive 10. Some days they carry you across a room you didn't even realize you were bleeding in. But over a lifetime — if both of you keep showing up to the trade — it balances. Not mathematically. Musically. Real love is still an exchange — just