I’ve never understood the word or it’s meaning or what people mean when they say they love you— Maybe love is a person or maybe it is a book. Perhaps it is a sparkly black dress that was not once worn, or a bottle of Jameson that rests on a glass slab, waiting— Everyone has got their own definition of love, I guess. I once wrote down 17 pages worth of definitions, but I didn’t know then what I know now. For me, love was a faded sticker at the back of my laptop, that needed to be peeled off and replaced— Love is not a sticker. Maybe love is a shapeshifter. Because now it has started to look a lot like a rain-soaked, black, Adidas sweatshirt. It changes a little, everyday. On some days, it resembles grey headphones and a window that overlooks an art gallery. And on others— It looks like a half exhausted Jasmine scented candle.