A few years ago, in my first semester in Newspaper, I wrote a story about how much I hated love. And generally, I do still stand by that story. To this day I will defend my take on crushes — they suck.

However, I’m here today to modify this argument a little bit.

I don’t hate love itself. Not even close. When I wrote that, I was 16 — and while I think that says enough — your girl was also kind of going through it.

I didn’t have a great idea of what “love” was. It’s not reserved for romance, and it’s not some commodity that should be used only sparingly.

I love my friends, and I love my siblings. I don’t hate that feeling in the slightest. And I probably haven’t told them that enough to be completely honest.

I have two amazing friends who have pretty much gotten me through certain Newspaper issues, and I have so many other friends who have made my life infinitely better. My little sister is absolutely terrifying, but she’s funny and I like her — maybe even love her — and my older sibling is genuinely the nicest person I’ve ever met.

I love all of them, and that’s not the horrific feeling I made it out to be.

I love my hobbies and my activities. That’s not even related to a person, but it’s still love. I look forward to whenever I get the time to play my favorite games, and I’m so incredibly proud of “Headrush” this year. I enjoy writing and Latin so much that I’m majoring in both.

In a way, this is my love letter to the universe.

Also, it’s my formal apology for being so wrong about what love is the last time that I wrote about it.

And lastly, it’s me telling everyone who reads this to love to their fullest.

It’s not embarrassing, it’s not some commodity that you have a limited amount of.

There’s exactly enough space for everything you love built into your heart, so I see no reason not to share it.