Love for me.

Love for me feels like:

What would you fill the blank with?

I’ve been thinking a lot about love.

About love and how my childhood shaped the way I look at love.

I grew up the first son of two African parents.

In African households (or at least mine) – the first son is often like a third parent. Caring for their siblings early as they can, doing errands around the house, being responsible.

So for me, love feels like responsibility.

Usually when people say they love me, it means they require something from me.

I’m working on figuring out how to redefine this for myself.

It’s not easy.

Wish me luck.

OFO

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