Loyalty is a confusing thing.
Such a strong, heavy burden, contained within seven letters. (But, I suppose, that’s the beauty of language, how it takes these enduring emotions and packs them into little symbols that are meant to represent what they really are.)
Loyalty is holding your hand out to someone who’s falling off a cliff.
Loyalty is looking across the table at your best friend and realizing you can’t imagine a day when she won’t be there, because she’s become that much of a permanent structure to you.
Loyalty is holding your friends when they cry.
Loyalty means reliability, means trust, means being solid.
Loyalty means keeping secrets, and sometimes loyalty means telling them.
Loyalty means shaking in your seat as your parents yell at you but keeping your mouth pressed into a firm line, because you’ll be damned if you break now.
Loyalty means staying with your damn promises.
Loyalty doesn’t mean telling me “I love you” and then running off to another girl.