It must be love when there is no question that your feelings are a direct result of someone else’s feelings.

When James is agitated or frustrated, I get upset, even though I’ve lived with him long enough to know not to interfere lest he redirect his expletives my way.

And when he calms down, my own agitation subsides.

If I’m in a good mood, talkative, energetic, he smiles more.

We both try our best to pull each other out of bad moods when it’s possible, because I know we’d all much rather be satisfied and happy than upset and miserable. But we often absorb at least a little bit of what the other is feeling and feel it in our own ways.

It’s love. It’s being in love. It’s not always happy, but it’s everything together. It’s interesting and amazing, even when there are frustrations, worries, adventures, and whatever else.


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