Not because you found someone perfect. But because you found someone who keeps trading with you — even on the days when you're both running on empty.
So yes — love is an exchange. But not of goods. Of ghosts. Not of favors. Of forgiveness. Not of promises. Of small, unrecorded acts of I see you .
And the terrible, beautiful truth? You never get equal. Some days you give 90 and receive 10. Some days they carry you across a room you didn't even realize you were bleeding in. But over a lifetime — if both of you keep showing up to the trade — it balances. Not mathematically. Musically. exchange love
Not "I give you this, so you owe me that." Not tallying who cooked last or who cried more. Not keeping score like a bruised accountant at the end of a fight.
You see, to love someone is to hand them a map of your softest places. Your fears. Your midnight thoughts. The version of you that doesn't show up for interviews or first dates. And in return, they hand you their own trembling map. And then you both choose — every single day — not to weaponize what you've been shown. Not because you found someone perfect
And somehow, together, you become rich.
Love, as they sell it to us, is not love. It's a transaction dressed in silk. But real love? Real love is still an exchange — just not the kind they warn you about. But not of goods
That is the exchange.