I have been in love before. I recall the sensation in my chest, the butterflies in my stomach, and the thrill of the cat-and-mouse dating game. What is it like to be in love? Because I’m pretty sure what I just described sounds like the deceptive workings of anxiety. It’s the excitement of learning to love someone new, discovering who they are, and what future you could build together.
You did something a little out of character that caught me off guard. What was that sensation in my chest? I put my hands over my mouth to prevent any words from spilling out. I am not afraid of how I feel, but…
I know what it’s like to be in love. To be captivated by someone who takes your hand and dreams up a whole new world with you together. They show you glorious sunrises at beaches, skies full of stars at mountainous lookouts, and soothing sunsets on the west coast. You make promises in different landscapes and hope it all works out for the best. But I’ve come to learn that love is not enough.
People seem to fall in love with the idea of me. They try to please me, win me over, and all sorts of other things. It leads me to believe that no one really sees me. Yet, sometimes I think that you do.
Love is far more than just a feeling. Once upon a time, I fell in love with the experience of falling in love. But now, more than that, I desire to be loved. I yearn for the comfort of emotional safety, a consistent and gentle love, and an unwavering love that endures. I haven’t really had the fortune of knowing what that is like outside of my relationship with Jesus.
I laugh with all my friends about the joke we just heard, and I catch a glimpse of you from the other side of the room. You’re laughing with others about something else, and yet, I can’t help but smile, knowing you seem happy in this very moment.
I am afraid of the intensity of my love. Sometimes I lie awake thinking about all the things close to my heart. I send my prayers of thankfulness to God for everyone and everything I love. It overwhelms my senses in an eccentric blend of joy, longing, and wistfulness. But I am not afraid because of how my heart may ache, and instead because I’ve learnt that it may be too much for the one I may choose to love.
Would you be overwhelmed knowing I have been holding back the love I have for you? Because it is too much for me to bear to pretend the feelings aren’t there. I love you. I really do.
If I were in love, would my words sound like this? Fantasies have begun to fill my mind once more with what love could look like. What it could feel like. And I am glad I have learnt how to dream again. My words want to be heard. They’re like little love letters longing to fly away and go out into the world. But I don’t know when I will have the courage to remove my hands from my mouth.
Will I find myself in the same place with an outstretched hand, knowing you would recoil from me in fear or disgust? Perhaps, I am still afraid of what you might do to me.
Have I always been a romantic? I honestly think I’ve just lost the plot altogether. My stream of consciousness has been a source of inexhaustible joy, conceiving hopeful dreams. But I fear that this kind of happiness will not last. Because it never lasts. After all, it’s what I’ve been taught.
Isn’t it a little absurd to dauntlessly, or even foolishly, love someone so incapable of loving you back? I will carry a piece of you with me for eternity to remind myself I am worthy of so much more love.
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