Crash and burn, or maybe just get married.

They say that when it's love, it's falling.
I'd have to say I disagree, but that's nothing new.

This isn't falling.
Falling is plummeting.
Falling is terrifying; falling is dangerous - people get hurt doing that.
Falling means you have to hit bottom, it means you have to crash. Falling means there's an end.

No, this can't be falling. This is floating; flying.
This is cleaner air and brand new heights.
Something new and untouched - an entire world ready to be discovered and traveled.
This is turbulance, bumps on the way through a journey that never quite ends.
This is flying on the wings of dreams and expectations and only being interrupted when a cloud of reassurance decides to help me on the way.
This is getting lost and deciding that maybe it's better that way.
This is something straight out of the story books; the kind of thing that's dreamt about but never touched due to pre-conceived notions of how things actually work.
This is hard, this is taking everything out of me, and this is giving me all the things I never knew I needed. It's the kind of nourishment you never knew you were lacking until you really feel the strength it gives you.
This is waking up after three hours of sleep and feeling like a champion.

Falling couldn't be this rewarding, and love isn't supposed to leave you down and out.

This is two feet planted safely on the ground; the ability to see where we're headed and the gift of loving every second of anticipation. This is flying, and it's magical.