3/31/25

How it feels to be in love

I am a very practical person. I want to rearrange the stars so that the light from them can illuminate the highways in order to lower the chances of car accidents. I do not understand romance. I do not understand valentines day. I do not understand love songs.

I understand emotions as a part of the goal, something to work towards or away from. I want to feel happy so I make an iced coffee. I do not want to feel sad, so I do not murder my cat. I want to feel fulfilled, so I pick a goal to work towards off the shelf and declare it my life purpose. I do not want to feel sick, so I avoid the extra donut at the craft table.

You are also a very practical person. But a different type of practical person. Your logic is odd to me, but all together familiar. You work from a different beginning to a different end, but the steps you choose to take and why are some I feel to be true. You have a logic, a logic that makes sense to me.

I look into your eyes and I see the black abyss of the universe. I see a single star, and I know the sun I orbit. I want to be happy, so I want to be close to you. I want you to be happy, so I want to be close to you.

I love it when I trick you into loving yourself. When I can pet your head, and tell you you are perfect and get you to believe me. I love it when I say something and you repeat it. I love it when you can trick me into loving myself. You are just different enough to trick me into loving myself. When I look at you I see you, and I love you. And then I remember I do the same things that you seem to make so endearing.

And maybe, I understand love songs now. Maybe I can see where the writer is coming from. Maybe there needs to be holidays to express how much you make my life better, in the same way there are holidays for the presidents or the birth of christ. Maybe the emotions you make me feel, the type of love you make me feel, is a different beast then the kind I feel for other people. A beast that is made of want and closeness and madness and pretty paper hearts spread out on picnic tables in the summertime.

I want you. I want to put flowers on your desk before you get home, and sneak your favorite type of snack cake into your lunch box. I want to hold you closely to my chest and wait for you to fall asleep in my arms. I want to kiss you gently in an old truck parked in a drive-in theater. I want your happiness, and If I might be so bold, I want your happiness to be something I can give.

I love you.