The story of love
We think we know the ones we love,
Who they really are. What keeps them awake at night. What their skin is made of and how their heart works.
We think we know where their minds wander off to when they get lost. How they like their coffee. Their favorite positions…
When someone does something terrible, we swear that our partner would never do something like that. We know their strengths. Their weaknesses. Their breaking point. The extent they can or can’t reach,
We think we know what they really want, how they want it,
We think we speak the same language. A language we both understand and comprehend,
We think they are happy. Contented. Satisfied. We think they are home.
But what do we really know?
Do we know them better? Do we know their hearts? Their secrets? If they really love chapo and beans and avocado and happy socks?
Sometimes, they are like a clear glass, you see right through them. Their intentions clear and pure. How do you explain such clarity?
We think we’ll spend the rest of our lives with them, because our love story is different. Sacred. Stable. Safe. Rooted. Warm. Flourishing…
But we never see it coming. The exact moment our life changes forever. And when it does, we live in denial, because we go through life thinking we are an exception. Smarter. Untouchable. Strong. More beautiful. We always think that some things can never happen to us, until they do. Because, even when a glass is clear, sometimes, you can look through it and see nothing.
There are many secrets about our loved ones we’ll never know, as we are remarkable at hiding things from ourselves as well as other people,
You could sleep next to someone, but you won’t know what it is they are keeping from you that could ruin your life,
They might have chosen to leave, and you won’t know. They might have another family, and you won’t know.
They will still smile, laugh with you and say I love you. Either out of pity or because they want to pretend that everything is okay. And you won’t know.
The heart lies. The body lies. The mind lies. And we lie to protect the ones we love or so we think. To make them feel wanted. Needed. Important. Functional. Vital…
You look at them sleeping and wonder,
Is this the life they wanted? Is this the life you wanted?
Are you what they expected?
Are you fighting for the same things in life?
Are they happy? Happy enough to still want to stay? Are you happy?
Are you part of their future plan, if there’s one?
Do they love all of you? Do you love all of them?
Do you make them feel as if they are home?
Can they talk to you when they are not okay?
We are never sure when to ask these questions because we have perfected the art of smiling and pretending we are okay. That our relationships are fine. Our children. Our jobs. Our health. Our minds.
And when we do, we never know the right time to ask these questions. We always think there’s enough time to say things, to do things, until there isn’t,
Life goes fast. Like a flash. And we carry on, thinking we are in control. Of situations, our partners, and everything else. Until life like a bar of soap, slips from our hands, and before we catch it, it’s too late.
Truth is, we are helpless. No matter how strong and hopeful we are, we are helpless. There are things we have no control over. Things we can do nothing about, save for sitting down and having a banana.
When people decide to release us from their grip, there’s nothing we can do about it. We can’t cry them back. Or write them back.
Sometimes it’s hard to understand why men suddenly do the things they do, but people always have their reasons,
We are never as important as people make us feel. We are Disposable. Easily dispensable and replaceable. We are not special. We are not loved. We do not matter. We are nothing. We are alone.
We want to love, we want to be loved. We have made love the central part of our lives. A cure for life’s problems. But what is love? What is one to make of love? Does it make us younger or older? Does it make us stronger or weaker? Because even the ones in love don’t trust it.
Is falling in love love? Is being in love love? Is love a choice? A decision? Is love romance? Affection? Is love peace? Faith? A space for refuge? Is it being present? Is love attachment? Is attachment love?
Does it make us sleep better at night? What if we are looking for a love we’ll never find?
They say love perseveres but it’s men who change. Because we always want more. Nothing is ever enough. Not love. Not money. Not even life itself. We have a hungry heart and sometimes, we feed it with whatever seems best for it. And in the process, hearts break. Promises go unfulfilled. Life goes unlived. Love goes. Or finds a new channel to flow to. Or doesn’t. Sometimes we bury it. And when love dies, it dies hard.
They say love perseveres but it’s men who change. For better or worse. And when they do, we don’t take time to learn their new language and comprehend it. We mold them into new people and when they don’t become who we want them to, who we need them to, we become angry.
What we want is everything they’ll never be, everything they don’t stand for.
We think we know the ones we love, but what we love turns out to be a sketch. A draft. A shadow. A misinterpretation. Unfinished lyrics to a song. An image poorly drawn by a three-year-old which we stick on the refrigerator and assume it’s a cow, even though it could be a ball,
Love changes. It evolves. It stagnates. Grows. Shrinks. Walks. Runs. And sometimes, it gets wings and flies. Sometimes, it stays. And because we are human, we do not fit the shape or form it takes,
But in real life, love has to be possible. And everyone deserves honesty to be told when they are no longer needed anymore. And when they are not fighting for the same things anymore.
We think we know the ones we love. Who they really are. What keeps them awake at night. What their skin is made of and how their heart works.
But what do we really know?
Because, even when a glass is clear, sometimes, you can look through it and see nothing.