Love is everywhere, they say—and it is, for better or for worse. It’s in our family, our friends, but it’s also on TV, on the billboards down the street, in the pop songs streaming non-stop from the speakers of food courts. It’s so omnipresent in our collective subconscious, we think that being in a thrilling and heartwarming relationship is the norm, and that if we are not in one then there is something wrong with us.

The word ‘love’ has been used so frequently, its true meaning is somewhat going over our heads. Love’s a feeling, we say. It’s that thrill burning within us when we finally strike conversation with that cute lad or lady, and realize that it would be absolutely delightful if we saw them again. It’s what we feel when we walk down the riverbank with our date, and the sun is setting and the sky is glowing, and we wish so hard for this to work because this is what the right person should make us feel.

But it never works—not the way we intended, anyway. Over time, as we begin to see the human element in our partner and we become passionate about other projects, the emotional rush disappears. “The spark is fading,” some couples say, as dialogue becomes more forced and sharing moments together doesn’t seem to be appealing anymore. They grow apart and, in the worst case scenario, the growing apart becomes resentment, which makes their life miserable… until someone else makes them feel that feeling of being complete again.

Is it what we should be looking for in a relationship—to be completed? Is the right one supposed to make us feel a particular way?

As somebody who has never felt at ease with a girlfriend, I’ve been asking myself this question for a long time. My longest relationship lasted eight weeks, for a total of six months of relationships in my entire life. Every time, I would live a short period of euphoria, only to have that euphoria replaced by an impending sense of responsibility. I wasn’t an individual anymore, but ‘half a couple’—even if I knew that I was still technically the same person. The feeling would not go away until I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I would break up with my girlfriend, then feel guilty and immature because of it. Single or not, I was unhappy either way.

In retrospect, I think my desire to be validated as a mature person contributed a lot to my crushes. To me, being in a relationship meant being good enough—to be mature enough—to be wanted by someone else. But the moment I recognized this pattern, and finally put the effort to validate myself rather than seeking validation elsewhere, attraction just stopped being that important.

What is love then, I wondered? If attraction is destined to fade, is love destined to fade too?

According to Gary Chapman, author of The Five Love Languages: The Secret To A Marriage That Lasts, love isn’t as overwhelming as that feeling of completeness that’s so often advertised. It’s the aptitude towards making others’ life easier. It’s about showing vulnerability to another person, even if we don’t feel like it, and opening ourselves to honest conversations.

Of course, love towards a spouse or a friend or a child or a parent have all different dynamics, but at its core it is always the same. It has nothing to do with attraction. Attraction is deeply tied to someone’s beliefs, and most beliefs change over time. Some people find kindness, intelligence and courage genuinely attractive—in which case, more power to them; but others, like me, are just looking for the missing piece of a broken narrative that only they themselves are able to fix.

So, to end this post, turn away from those billboards. Stop listening to the songs. Stop lamenting your lack of a relationship, because love is much more than what we think. It’s a responsibility that we can take up on ourselves, right now, by calling a family member we haven’t heard in a while, and ask them how they’re feeling. That’s the kind of love that, even if not as flashy as your standard ‘Love’, is omnipresent and meaningful.