how do you write about love?

I wasn't planning on writing anything today, but I came across this photo and was instantly inspired to attempt to do this very thing. I'm not sure what other people go through when they feel positive emotions towards another person. I'm not sure if some people find it easy to explain why they love someone, or if it's universally been accepted as one of those tasks that we can't seem to succeed at, no matter how hard we try. The words never seem to come out right, and especially not at the right time. We tend to think telling someone you love them and that you would do anything for them is a candlelit dinner or sitting under the stars on a warm, summer night kind of affair, but it usually comes up at inopportune times. I understand entirely. I know that once you find those words, you don't want to let them go unsaid. What if you never find the right combination of letters and sounds again?

I often wonder what it is that other people answer to a question like, "why do you like your significant other?" Is it because they're attractive, or they're fun or make good jokes, or something deeper than that? How do you know when you love someone? Is it just a feeling? I know I believe that love and relationships take mutual effort, but what is love, that moment where you fall into it? How do you explain that? I've been thinking about how to explain these things that I often take for granted, because I think that's what happens sometimes when you don't try to pinpoint what it is that you really feel. For myself, I tend to let it become this thing that is never going to be properly voiced, so I stop trying. I am a mess of inaudible grunts and smiles and grabbing hands when it comes to spending time with the person I love. I have to be satisfied with, "you're so cute, I love you!" because nothing else seems to be good enough. I'm not even satisfied with those silly things that fall out of my mouth, because they don't fully capture the complexity of the emotions I experience. Then there is this whole archive of what it's meant to look like based on films and television series we've all seen, or how our parents act or our friends and their boyfriends or girlfriends. Everyone has this preconceived idea of what being in love looks like, and no matter how hard to try to erase that from our memories and work on the living person in front of us, we still get caught up in those beliefs. I don't want to say things like

you mean everything to me

I want to do everything I can to make you happy

I would do anything for you

I want to share everything with you

I don't like it when you're not around

Such words reek of desperation. They remind us of the kinds of people we don't want to be in relationships with. No one should make another person the center of their universe, right? Isn't that what people believe? So how do you express those sentiments without saying those things? You usually don't. You usually suppress them and say something simple and safe instead, even if it isn't what you really meant. Thus begins the cycle of feeling like you have never expressed how much someone means to you. You're constantly thinking of new ways to do it, but if it's close enough to matching your emotions, it's usually not kosher.

I know what people mean when they say some cliche thing like, "it's just a feeling, you can't explain it." But the writer in me wants to be able to convey something so real and so universal. It causes me distress to not be able to write about the love that I have. I have to keep trying. I carry a notebook with me at all times. I try to write down the little details that make me feel that dull ache in my bones, the things that accelerate my heart, the moments that make me smile. I am trying.

 If only I were a poet.

Pablo Neruda

“Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way than this: 

where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. ”

Such desperation smells much sweeter when written in stanzas.