What is love made of?

It's the stuff of poems and legends and stories, but what is it really MADE of? Then again, is it really made of some "thing"?

Is it made of stolen kisses in an empty lift? Is it those walks around the park? Is it the SMS conversations that last the whole day? Is it the movies watched together, the plays enjoyed, the concerts attended? Is the playlist that defined so much you couldn't say?

Is it hormones going wild? Ideas which never existed before but suddenly become important? Chemical reactions in the brain? Intangible feelings overly romanticized?

Is it two people tied together inexorably and completely? Is it lust and passion?

Know what I think?

It is made of all this and more.

But essentially, I think love is made of shared breakfasts and lunches and dinners. It is when you miss the other person for something as simple as food.

It's funny how every single time you think things are okay, something happens just to remind you that they aren't and never were. That you just thought they were okay and that was just the calm before the storm. And that your mind conveniently forgot that the storm was coming. That just because everything looked good and felt good, doesn't mean it actually was good.

Life has a way of reminding you that no matter how hard you try, no matter what you sacrifice, it eventually doesn't matter. Eventually, it is all worthless. Because your wishes and dreams and actions and pain and your very existence are just that.

Worthless.