Love is hard. Really hard. And sometimes you're unhappy and sometimes you're delirious with it and sometimes the person you love is near you but so far away that you don't even want to touch them in case you break them out of whatever it is they're inside of. Sometimes that's not you. Sometimes it's not always just you and them, sometimes there is hundred of other people pressed against the glass of it, smudging it with their fingers. Sometimes they are cold and you are tired and you don't even want to touch or look at each other.
Love is sometimes the shaking cat in the back garden that does not want you but needs you. Sometimes it's every sunrise you've ever seen blurred into one. It just really depends.