Is love so easy, like walking into a grocery store and going straight to the aisle that has what you want?

Is love sometimes unfair? That it just plays hide and seek with you when all you want is for it to run with you?

Is love selfish? That it chooses when it comes into your life and not the other way round?

Is love a familiar feeling or a stranger who’s eyes you’ve merely glanced past in a crowded train?

Is love honest or does it paint pictures for you? One that has many greys in it?

Is love everything that you’ve wanted or something you’ve never imagined even in your wildest dreams?

Is love what happens when you least expect it to or when you keep the door open, waiting for it enter with its arms wide open?

Is love comfort like hot milk and cookies or uneasy, like the sleep that doesn’t come to you on nights when you’re tired?

Is love the kindness you’re shown or the kindness you can’t see yet?

Is love easy? Or is it difficult?

Is love really there or just in our minds?