People don't like vanilla romances. We don't want soulmates who were made for each other, who each carry a hole in their souls which the other fills perfectly, who suit each other impeccably from the moment they meet. We don't want love at first sight where eyes meet in a shower of sparks and roses, where soft gasps escape lips and everything just feels right.
We want love forged in molten rock, love with just a tinge of melancholy and not-quite-right, love that holds steadfast and strong despite it being completely different from what either of them thought it would be like.
We want love that isn't perfect but which tries its best, broken pieces putting themselves back together again—they don't quite fit together, but they make it work.
We want shattered people pouring every single shard of their souls into this one last chance to find—not someone who's perfect for them, but someone who will stand by them through the thunderstorms and hurricanes, a steady lighthouse shining through the dark.
Love shouldn't be perfect from the moment people meet.
It's the screaming and crying and fights over the dumbest things.
It's the apologies and conversations afterwards, whispers of "I'm sorry" and "I forgive you" in the inky dark while the world stands still, holding its breath for this one moment.
It's not finding happiness with someone who's flawless—because no one is and ever will be—but seeing their faults and loving them nonetheless.
It's losing your way in this mess of a labyrinth we call life but still trusting—knowing that your one constant companion will always stand by you, and you them.
Love isn't perfect until you make it so.