I'm still not sure that I do. Maybe. Possibly. I'm on the fence. I want to. It's scary. It feels so good and then it hurts, like the sweet bliss of nitrous right before the root canal drill.
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An Ethiopian friend says he doesn't. But, he's young and a player so I think it's mostly a line.
Also, it depends somewhat on what you mean by love. There's "love" as in soul mates, one person you'll be with forever and do everything with and skip happily into the Hollywood sunset.
There's also "love" as in:
- the friend who says "call anytime day or night if you need anything" and when something horrible happens, she picks up the phone at 1 a.m.
- the one who remembers to check in on holidays or certain times a year because they know you lost somebody and are feeling sad
- sisters and nieces who are nutty and fun and would be friends even if they weren't blood relations
- people who take adventures with you, whether it's a late night photo shoot in a downtown alley or sidewalk dancing and then Five Point tater tots at 4am or checking out a young hip hop band that's so terrible that fleeing out to the sidewalk in the 20-degree night with no coat is preferable
- the dreamers, the poets and musicians and artists and photographers, who gladly stay up all night with you smoking and drinking and agonizing over strokes and beats and beauty and yet somehow also surf the mundanity of day jobs, of rent checks and power bills
- the handsome charming one who tells you everything, holds back nothing even when it's ugly or painful or sad, and couldn't be lovelier
PS: I saw this graffiti: I know your secrets and I love you anyway
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