Love is taking possession of something, someone. Search in others that thing that fills personal expectations of affection, companionship.
Love is making ours what is not ours, it is take possession or want something/someone complete to ourselves, because at some point we recognize the lack of complements.
Love is waiting, it is stick to things and to people based on our needs. Then, when we have no reciprocity we suffer. When that person, so dear to us, do not love us back we feel frustrated and disappointed.
When someone love someone, they have expectations, hope for something. If the other person does not give what they expect, they suffer. The big problem and the cause of pain is that there is a greater chance that the other person has other motivations, we are all very different. Every human being is an universe.
Love is wanting the best for the other, even if you have very different motivations. Love is to allow you to be happy, even when the road is different. It is a selfless feeling, completely from the heart. Thus, love will never be the cause of suffering.
That makes sense? Because when a person says that he or she has suffered for love, actually they didn't. They suffered, yes, but they suffered for want so much something that the other person wasn't capable of give, not for love. You suffer from addictions. If you really love, you can not suffer, because nothing was expected from that person.
When we love we give without asking anything in return, just for the pure pleasure of giving. But it is also true that this installment, this awareness, selfless, is given only in knowledge. We can only love what we know, because love involves jumping into the void, entrust your life and soul to someone. And the soul is not compensated, is knowing your joy, your peace, but also your anger, your struggles. Because love transcends anger and struggles too, not just times of joy.
Love is feel yourself confident that no matter what, you're going to be there for that person, not because your owe them something, it's a selfish possession this time. Love is knowing that your love will not change with the time, nor the storms, nor the winters.
Love is give that person a place in your heart. And forever.
Give love does not deplete love, on the contrary, it increases. The way to repay such love, is to open your heart and be loved.
And she loved—God, how she loved.
Against anything. Against the world.
That's why she can't understand any of this. And right now, the pain is clouding her reason, making everything more difficult.
Twenty-four months serving in the army. Twenty-four months working for the United States of America's government. And it was all over.
Seemingly, twenty four months were enough to forget about their love.
Wasn't the sacrifice and danger just a cruel wait before get back home with her? All deaths that went through her eyes, all the scars that she gained, sounds of bombs, screams and dead bodies all over the place. Wasn't that just a brutal nightmare before waking up next to her and be happy again?
Her blood, shed in every battle, the anguish, wasn't worth it?
Well it wasn't.
And she just realized that the moment she landed on New York after two years of non—communication, no mails, no letters, no photos, no nothing given the dimensional distance.
She remembers how excitedly she dialed her number from a public phone right after getting out of the plane. Just to find out that it wasn't her number anymore.
So she asked for help, she asked to her—hopefully—ex captain if he could look up for someone in his special computer's system just when he was about to enter a taxi to finally get home after a long flight.
And he did, he helped her. But what she found out smashed all her world.
Her dreams, future, expectations, they all crashed on the floor. It was like watching her life in front of her eyes completely destroyed.
Quinn.
Married with a man named Noah.
A daughter, one or two years old.
All of them happily living in a house near Central Park.
It was unreal, it was devastating and painful. So painful that Santana could swear she stopped breathing for a whole minute.
Seeing that it wasn't what she expected to see, her captain tried to ask her what was wrong, but she couldn't talk, she couldn't move, she couldn't function. So he got into the car leaving her standing there. Alone and lonely, with her heart breaking inside of her as tears were already making their way out of her tired eyes.
In Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan Santana did not know where heaven ended and where hell began.
Now she knows it.
Four years together. Twenty four months away from each other. And it was all over.
Love is not about waiting, it seems.