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What Love is

Here’s the thing. When I first enrolled in a love story class I thought, maybe this will teach me all I need to know about love. I thought, since I’m taking a Death and Sex English class and a Love Story creative writing class, I’d be an expert by the end of the semester. So I read a lot. Thousands of pages, really. But it wasn’t until we discussed Kawabata’s “One Arm” in class that I came to understand that love wasn’t something you need to be taught. It turns out love isn’t something that’s all that rational, anyway. Love is scary. Love is freedom. Love is passion, warmth, and courage. Love is uncomfortable and it makes you feel like you’re delivering your oral presentation with nothing but your underwear on. Love is lies and hope. Love doesn’t make sense. We can’t always help what we love, and I say what because sometimes we fall in loving with airships. And sometimes those airships don’t love us back. Sometimes relationships work and sometimes they don’t and love doesn’t have to be just between a couple. Parents love too. Animals love us, or at least we love them. The story of “One Arm” doesn’t beg to be figured out. It’s love. Love is love. It’s confusing and conflicting and challenging. But love is love. And so we love.

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