Love is when you find yourself with someone you don’t have to pretend to be someone else.
That you feel secure… No matter how embarassing you might be. A big drooller. Or a loud snorer. An arrogant bitch. Or an asskisser.
That you feel like being with him aaall the time is not a must. You can go with your friends or travelling the world alone, with an acknowledgement that the idea of him is stuck to the whole you like a glue. That you are missing him in a way that you understand completely the reason of your spatial surrounding differs for some moments.
It’s when holding hands will never feel old. Touching his mole, his pimples, or his scar in a silly way, that both of you laugh your ass off on the floor. When poking his face annoyingly will not even cause him mad, or the other way around.