P12; I've been imbibing the wine, but i think this makes sense, kind of.

I love love. But not the love you're thinking of. It isn't merchandised in February, and it sure as hell isn't pink and red with ruffles. You'll never be able to buy it, and even if it was for sale, you could never afford it. Love is black and blue. Beaten and bruised, it takes hits like a stoner, or a slow has-been boxer far past his prime. Love is selfless. It is sacrificial. Love gives of itself even what it doesn't know it has. I mean, really, we're all charity cases looking for a hand out- please, put your hand out and take mine. Love is desperate to give itself to you, so much so that it would die for you. Love would do anything for you. Chew on tin foil for you, lick a 9-volt for eternity if you said "do it" and tell mountains to move if they blocked your view of the sunset. Love wants to do impossible things for you. Stop looking online. Put down the heart-drawing pen, and stopstopstop looking for love in empty relationships. Love is that thing you have in you, eating not even from the palm of your hand, but from your heart from day one. Love will consume you as you consume love. Love is all you need.