I’ve wondered at this word, this love, for quite some time now. I spent a while attempting to bracket it, in correspondence with another and inside myself. This did not work. It kept finding my open mouth, kept rising up in my chest.
Recently, I’ve found cause to revisit this word with a renewed attempt at understanding. I still feel at a loss. Less for love itself, but more for the times we declare it to another, to love another, or moreso, to be in love with another. What does it all mean? And what does it mean to want to be saying it….?
No.13: Finally, a Love Letter
I don’t know anymore, [ ], what love is. —What it even means to say “I love you.” Surely, you could say it’s different for everyone, and yet isn’t love meant to be one of those few, singular absolutes in this world? No matter how much it’s debated, cursed or abused, love is love is love…?
And well, here we have it, love IS what I want to declare on you now—and as you have so aptly notice—it IS what I have apparently wanted to declare for some time before now.
And what, indeed, does this mean, this love?
Well, the thing is, I don’t know.
I know that you are the first man I’ve said it to knowing that he wouldn’t be saying it back. I know—in that—that you are the first man I’ve said it to as a declaration and not as a request.
I know that I am a poet and words such as these mean much for me, to hear but also to use—in a way that they perhaps don’t to you. But I know that you SHOW me love on a regular basis without even using such words.
I know that just because I feel this love toward you does not mean that this between us, that WE will work out. But I know that every time I’ve let true love fill my heart, I’ve walked away a fuller person, even though I may have done the walking or more often been left behind.
I know that despite all our differences and recent complications, I am happy with you and I’ll go back to this one thought again and again, you make me feel like a real person—alive, wanting life. These are things I think rare, indeed, I find them rare in this world, in my life.
So, my love—yes, there it is, while this is only a letter, and sent electronically at that, perhaps it begins what should have been something much more momentous than my matter-of-fact statement on the chat this evening…
[ ], I love you, and I own that. No no—I should rephrase, as I have loved you for quite some time. It is hard not to, you being so adorable. No—I am in love with you, [ ]. And I didn’t fall there. I didn’t trip. I saw the chasm and I dove right in. Because I felt strongly that we could get through anything together. I felt strongly that this was a dive I shouldn’t miss.