I woke up this morning and decided, for no reason I can understand, to write about love. And then my thought ended there.
Maybe it's because I'm feeling too exhausted to channel any inspiration (although, it might be said that a sleepy mind is quite likely the perfect instrument to come up with something more true than not).
Okay. Here's the thing: I go to bed early and get up by 5 a.m. every morning, not because I have to, but because I like to. I don't care what anyone else's habits are, but I will tell you this--I don't like to be teased about mine. I never have. Maybe if I were a less self-conscious person, then it wouldn't phase me. But after all this time? I think self-consciousness and I are wedded for the long-run.
What on earth has this to do with love? I don't know, except this--I've known unconditional love only a handful of times in my life, and this, for me, is the deciding factor: with that person, you will never feel self-conscious. Which is saying a lot, because even alone, I'm self-conscious with only myself as witness.
Love should also allow for time alone without the other party feeling injured or slighted. Because here's what I imagine, and what limited experience has taught me--love is more about them than about you. Not in an unhealthy or codependent way, but in a generous way wherein all parties remain entirely their own person and feel perfectly comfortable with themselves as with their other.