Love at Margins (Or: Love Letters I Cannot Send #14)
I love you.
I’ve tried to think about why that is, but that’s it.
There is no poetry, no flowers, no jewelries. I have travelled to the ends of my brain and sat in the fields of my feelings, all in the hopes that I find an answer. I have tried to write-write and write and write- in an attempt to describe how much you mean to me. I have tried to explore the caverns of my heart in an attempt to learn how my heart beats and breaks simultaneously for you. And every time, I come to the same conclusion-
I love you. I just love you. That’s all there is.
When you love somebody, almost every moment with them is beautiful.
But there are times when you're reminded of exactly how much you love them, and those moments often leave you absolutely and utterly breathless.
It may happen after a marathon of movies, when your head is buzzing with hot cheeto dust and faerie lights, and you're lying on crumb-filled bed sheets. In this scenario, everything is so cosy, warm, and pleasant that you can scarcely hold back tears when you gaze over towards your loved one, who is surrounded by everything safe and cosy.
It may happen when you hear someone singing in the car as the bass of the music is making the seats shake, and you turn over to see how their cheek lines move as they sing while grinning, joyful, and totally present in the moment, with their hair blowing in the breeze and their skin being sun-kissed, and your heart may leap a little extra.
It may happen when you see them stumbling home after a hard day at school or work, with a little additional lag in their feet and their shadows looking a little more palpable, and you decide to get up to make them tea and rewarm supper even if you've had a long day as well.
Love is a funny thing.
Sometimes it lays quiet, constant, like the hum of the refrigerator at night or the clicking of the water heater through the walls.
Other times, it will flare up suddenly and overpower you for a little period of time, causing your eyes to fill up and your stomach to slump.
Oddly enough, love is also...
a tumultuous vortex of anguish that only pulls you
down,
down,
down…
…and keeps you caged there, like a tortured slave. It’s merciless, and you feel as though somebody’s pummeling holes into your bruised heart with every waking moment. Love is the kind of empty coldness that no amount of thick blankets could shield you from.
I love you.
I’ve tried to think about why that is, but that’s it.
I lived with it in the back of my mind, and most days I truly didn’t think of it, not really. It wasn’t something that needed paying attention to, in my opinion. It wasn’t an itch I needed to scratch, not a void I felt I had to fill.
It was just there.
But there were days when it made itself known.
There were days when I woke up and just didn’t know what to do with myself, didn’t know if I wanted to curl up in bed and sleep for the rest of the day or take off running and running until I couldn’t run anymore, chased by something invisible that I couldn’t even name.
Love- it's supposed to be a feeling. Isn't it? But after living undivided from it for too long now that it feels part of me rather than a separate thing. And so, shrugging listlessly, wishing for a foolproof conclusion, I don’t know where to start, the words don’t come and yet-
I love you. I just love you. That’s all there is.
