That's the exchange. And it's the only kind of love worth the risk.
Where it breaks is when one person stops exchanging. When one keeps giving maps, and the other burns them for warmth. When one offers tenderness, and the other offers a receipt. exchange love
The exchange is: I will hold your chaos if you promise to sit with mine. I will stay when you're not dazzling. And you will stay when I'm not easy. That's the exchange
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. When one keeps giving maps, and the other
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 .