What can I say? I have no experience.
Love. What is love? What does it feel like to be loved? What does it feel like to love? What does it feel like to be in love? Family love, friendship love… Sure, I have known all these. Do not think of me as a being so deprived of love that I simply long to be loved by anyone. I have loved and been loved by family and friends around me. But to love and be loved by someone you’re in love with? I must admit this experience has eluded me yet.
This must sound desperate, but I truly desire to be in love. I don’t mean going on fickle, random dates or being in a relationship just for the sake of having a romantic partner—as many are doing these days. What I wish for, is to be in love with someone who is equally in love with me.
What must you think of me, having such ridiculous desires? Well in my defense, I blame them on all the romance novels and movies I have obsessively indulged myself in ever since I understood what love is. From classics like Titanic and Pride and Prejudice, to modern pieces like The Fault In Our Stars and Twilight, they have invaded my mind and corrupted my heart, rendering me weak and vulnerable, defenseless and forced to succumb to such desires.
I am envious, jealous even, of the characters in each fairy tale that I have encountered, be it one with a happy ending or a miserable one, because they have all had a taste of being in love. They have all encountered having someone to be in love with them. I often picture myself in their places, trying to imagine how it would feel, being in the arms of someone I’m in love with, feeling safe and protected and… loved. Or how it would feel, experiencing such emotional closeness with someone that I wouldn’t have to hide anything, comforted by the knowledge that I could go to him in times of utter distress and helplessness. Or how it would feel, to be on the receiving end of passionate and affectionate gestures.
To be in love. One as inexperienced as I cannot possibly begin to fathom the depths of such a topic. The knowledge I have is entirely based on what I have read in books and watched in movies. The closest encounters I have had are those that have visited me in my dreams, as I was sound asleep in the dead of night. Dreams they may be, but the feelings they induced in me, the frantic fluttering of my heart as I woke, the scrambled mess my brain was in following the dream, they all felt as real as if it really happened to me. And when realisation came to me that it was all just a dream, just a fantasy that my overactive imagination had conjured up, I felt myself wishing that I hadn’t woken up, that I had been allowed to continue dwelling in that dream, that such beautiful, indescribable feelings would not leave me. Waking up has never got me feeling so miserable.
I can never stop myself from imagining—multiple times a day, scenes that that are no doubt the product of my love-starved mind.
Private jokes and constant teasing.
‘Good morning’ and ‘Goodnight’ texts.
And until this very day, they remain what they are—daydreams. Desires that have yet to be fulfilled. I admit, I disgust myself sometimes, wanting after such insignificant aspects of life, when I should be focusing on success and accomplishments.
But what can I say? The heart wants what it wants, and try as I might, I could not stop it.
Love. Are you arriving soon? If not, I plead you to increase your speed, for my heart grows impatient, awaiting your arrival.
And I cannot help but wonder—everyday, how will it feel?