“I Love You”
Three REMARKABLE words
Two dedicated lives
One apparent ending
PROLOGUE
LOVE. An intricate feeling of an absolutely modest and sublime heart. Where you start to feel like you have everything, though unbeknownst that somewhere you’re still empty. Not ready to accept it. You will. When time takes its toll…
Once my teacher told me, “Love is the most complex term to understand. You can’t say that one loves you or one does not.” (Yeah! You can’t say, but you can always feel it). Though she was right, it cost me to accept the fact. Maybe it didn’t. Who knows?
We were two different personalities stuck in our own world of complications. We both were students struggling to strike high, though not always successful. I met her at a store on a rainy night and offered her to drop her home by the way. Though we weren’t well acquainted she didn’t refuse as we were of the same college. That night I came to know her real close enough. And I thought I found the very thing I was searching for—love.
Then what, a chance meeting made us the best of friends through the long days ahead. Each day we came to know each other better and each time my feelings grew for her. Finally I made up my mind to introduce herself to be my other half.
I arranged our rendezvous one day at a coffee shop. My most crucial day. Was I too happy? No, but I had that wobbly feeling you get when something’s about to happen. Anyway I had lately decided on this matter. I had to or I’ll go insane.
We met.
Our eyes gazing each other.
I gathered up my courage and spoke out my heart.
I proposed her.
Said,
“I love you, my dear from the bottom of my heart!”
“I…?”
INTERLUDE
Some thoughts are better left unsaid and some feelings are better kept to yourself. But as peculiar as it may sound, love has its own way of communicating itself despite the silence. Love doesn’t happen when you want to, but it happens when it wants to. Love is no one’s bond nor can it be enslaved. It is a bird which must fly to live and die to be reborn in its full-fledged avatar.
We, (the younger generation) are too eager and ever-ready to pounce on love the moment we set eyes on the opposite sex. Most of the time we push ourselves to change us to such a limit, in the name of pretense, that by the end of the day we forget who we are, all for the sake to impress someone. Always be who you truly are from the inside, because in the end it’s all that matters. While some may deny, refusing to believe in love, calling it an illusionary dream, a burden of untold sorrows to be endured alone, a tunnel of unhappiness with darkness all around. But gradually and eventually, the remaining ‘some’ fall prey to it, unknowingly. And as usual we always fail to see the other side of the coin—the side which speaks of responsibility, trust and above all, a sense of being complete while physically existing as two individuals.
Now, leave out all the rest. First and foremost of all—how do you define love? Late night chats? Everyday visits? Hand-in-hand conversations? Or a kiss to last a lifetime?
For all you people who say ‘I love you’, what is love? When we claim that it’s love that we have for someone are we correct? Is it love when we develop feelings for each other? Do any of you have a single clue what you mean by what you feel and what you say?
It doesn’t matter if it’s the only thing we think about, but each feeling has its unique sense of perception and interpretation. I’ll clarify it this way:
You can’t keep your eyes off them—it’s lust. You tend to be with them because their sight makes your heart skip a beat—it’s infatuation. You pardon their faults because you care about them—it’s not love, it’s friendship.
But if their eyes see your true heart and touch your soul so deeply it hurts; and you are attracted to others but stay with them faithfully without regret—then it’s love. You stay with them because a blinding, incomprehensible mix of pain and relaxation pulls you close and holds you there; and you’d allow them to leave you not because they want to but because they have to—then it’s love.
And when you love someone, then it’s love.
Have we ever felt this way once? No! Our love starts from friendship, advances to infatuation (to an extent flirting) and ends up in lust. We confess our love to be special, an unbreakable thread. While the truth reveals something else. Our unbreakable thread—or rather I’d call it relationship, is so fragile that a breeze of doubt is strong enough to break it.
Even when someone states that he or she has found true love, later sometime in their life they feel remorseful to quote themselves of finding true love. Outcome—break up or separation. Only to swear obligation to each other is not love, but a fraction of love. Similarly, love is not heart of life, but a part of life. What should be a fascinating treasure hunt becomes an addictive quest for us. We seek to find love anywhere and anyhow.
We spend so much time looking for the right person to love or teaching them to love properly and look for faults in each other that what we never do is perfecting the love we give each other. When we truly care for someone we don’t look for answers, flaws or mistakes. Instead we fight the mistakes, accept the flaws and overlook excuses. There’s beauty in all imperfections we must learn to love.
You should never welcome anything that you can’t entertain or feel responsible. You should never open doors if you mean to close your heart. All in all, you should never accept love if you can’t give yourself In return. Also, you should learn to accept things the way they are and not by what you mean it to be.
I’m not saying you can’t find true love. Few are lucky enough to have themselves embraced in the arms of others, held so tightly, never to be separated for aeons to come. But the hapless and unfortunate ones, when their proposal faces denial, they feel as if they’ve been torn apart. They emotionally rape themselves, go schizophrenic and then the only credible thing to counter their pain seems death (otherwise called as suicide).
Nevertheless, what about the love that our parents have rained down upon us? Are they not accountable and noteworthy of? Aren’t we liable to their love, rather than the ones who would betray us anytime they want to? Are our parents an element of a biological cycle meant only to bring us up this world with a purpose to educate us, while we relate ourselves with others on no definite grounds except that we love them?
Love does not mean desperate possession. On the contrary, it emphasizes acceptance whether they be positive or negative.
Well, back to my story then.
EPILOGUE
“I
Love
You.”
And suddenly my whole world went blank, my consciousness staggering and my heart beating rapidly.
“Sorry,” she exclaimed.
“I love you, my sweetheart.” I responded frantically.
I discerned her face alter an expression from bewilderment to vexation.
She said, “I’m quite petrified that you mistook my fellowship, my feelings for you as love.”
“May you like it or not, but I...” and she stopped, leaving those sharp-edged words dangling in thin air. Then she left never to return again.
Of all the words, ‘YES’ and ‘NO’ are the two shortest. And yet they are often the ones that require the most thought before they are said. I think she loved me but was afraid to accept or she might not be in love. Only time and she can tell.
But never did I falter to end my life or cast off myself from my family and the vicinity. I moved on in my life with triumph and dignity. Though there would always be an aching loneliness inside my heart, I’m not looking forward to miss her, because there’s always something better to do than this.
And you cannot finish a book without closing its chapters. If you want to go on, then you have to leave the past as you turn the pages of life.
Three REMARKABLE words
Two dedicated lives
One apparent ending
PROLOGUE
LOVE. An intricate feeling of an absolutely modest and sublime heart. Where you start to feel like you have everything, though unbeknownst that somewhere you’re still empty. Not ready to accept it. You will. When time takes its toll…
Once my teacher told me, “Love is the most complex term to understand. You can’t say that one loves you or one does not.” (Yeah! You can’t say, but you can always feel it). Though she was right, it cost me to accept the fact. Maybe it didn’t. Who knows?
We were two different personalities stuck in our own world of complications. We both were students struggling to strike high, though not always successful. I met her at a store on a rainy night and offered her to drop her home by the way. Though we weren’t well acquainted she didn’t refuse as we were of the same college. That night I came to know her real close enough. And I thought I found the very thing I was searching for—love.
Then what, a chance meeting made us the best of friends through the long days ahead. Each day we came to know each other better and each time my feelings grew for her. Finally I made up my mind to introduce herself to be my other half.
I arranged our rendezvous one day at a coffee shop. My most crucial day. Was I too happy? No, but I had that wobbly feeling you get when something’s about to happen. Anyway I had lately decided on this matter. I had to or I’ll go insane.
We met.
Our eyes gazing each other.
I gathered up my courage and spoke out my heart.
I proposed her.
Said,
“I love you, my dear from the bottom of my heart!”
“I…?”
INTERLUDE
Some thoughts are better left unsaid and some feelings are better kept to yourself. But as peculiar as it may sound, love has its own way of communicating itself despite the silence. Love doesn’t happen when you want to, but it happens when it wants to. Love is no one’s bond nor can it be enslaved. It is a bird which must fly to live and die to be reborn in its full-fledged avatar.
We, (the younger generation) are too eager and ever-ready to pounce on love the moment we set eyes on the opposite sex. Most of the time we push ourselves to change us to such a limit, in the name of pretense, that by the end of the day we forget who we are, all for the sake to impress someone. Always be who you truly are from the inside, because in the end it’s all that matters. While some may deny, refusing to believe in love, calling it an illusionary dream, a burden of untold sorrows to be endured alone, a tunnel of unhappiness with darkness all around. But gradually and eventually, the remaining ‘some’ fall prey to it, unknowingly. And as usual we always fail to see the other side of the coin—the side which speaks of responsibility, trust and above all, a sense of being complete while physically existing as two individuals.
Now, leave out all the rest. First and foremost of all—how do you define love? Late night chats? Everyday visits? Hand-in-hand conversations? Or a kiss to last a lifetime?
For all you people who say ‘I love you’, what is love? When we claim that it’s love that we have for someone are we correct? Is it love when we develop feelings for each other? Do any of you have a single clue what you mean by what you feel and what you say?
It doesn’t matter if it’s the only thing we think about, but each feeling has its unique sense of perception and interpretation. I’ll clarify it this way:
You can’t keep your eyes off them—it’s lust. You tend to be with them because their sight makes your heart skip a beat—it’s infatuation. You pardon their faults because you care about them—it’s not love, it’s friendship.
But if their eyes see your true heart and touch your soul so deeply it hurts; and you are attracted to others but stay with them faithfully without regret—then it’s love. You stay with them because a blinding, incomprehensible mix of pain and relaxation pulls you close and holds you there; and you’d allow them to leave you not because they want to but because they have to—then it’s love.
And when you love someone, then it’s love.
Have we ever felt this way once? No! Our love starts from friendship, advances to infatuation (to an extent flirting) and ends up in lust. We confess our love to be special, an unbreakable thread. While the truth reveals something else. Our unbreakable thread—or rather I’d call it relationship, is so fragile that a breeze of doubt is strong enough to break it.
Even when someone states that he or she has found true love, later sometime in their life they feel remorseful to quote themselves of finding true love. Outcome—break up or separation. Only to swear obligation to each other is not love, but a fraction of love. Similarly, love is not heart of life, but a part of life. What should be a fascinating treasure hunt becomes an addictive quest for us. We seek to find love anywhere and anyhow.
We spend so much time looking for the right person to love or teaching them to love properly and look for faults in each other that what we never do is perfecting the love we give each other. When we truly care for someone we don’t look for answers, flaws or mistakes. Instead we fight the mistakes, accept the flaws and overlook excuses. There’s beauty in all imperfections we must learn to love.
You should never welcome anything that you can’t entertain or feel responsible. You should never open doors if you mean to close your heart. All in all, you should never accept love if you can’t give yourself In return. Also, you should learn to accept things the way they are and not by what you mean it to be.
I’m not saying you can’t find true love. Few are lucky enough to have themselves embraced in the arms of others, held so tightly, never to be separated for aeons to come. But the hapless and unfortunate ones, when their proposal faces denial, they feel as if they’ve been torn apart. They emotionally rape themselves, go schizophrenic and then the only credible thing to counter their pain seems death (otherwise called as suicide).
Nevertheless, what about the love that our parents have rained down upon us? Are they not accountable and noteworthy of? Aren’t we liable to their love, rather than the ones who would betray us anytime they want to? Are our parents an element of a biological cycle meant only to bring us up this world with a purpose to educate us, while we relate ourselves with others on no definite grounds except that we love them?
Love does not mean desperate possession. On the contrary, it emphasizes acceptance whether they be positive or negative.
Well, back to my story then.
EPILOGUE
“I
Love
You.”
And suddenly my whole world went blank, my consciousness staggering and my heart beating rapidly.
“Sorry,” she exclaimed.
“I love you, my sweetheart.” I responded frantically.
I discerned her face alter an expression from bewilderment to vexation.
She said, “I’m quite petrified that you mistook my fellowship, my feelings for you as love.”
“May you like it or not, but I...” and she stopped, leaving those sharp-edged words dangling in thin air. Then she left never to return again.
Of all the words, ‘YES’ and ‘NO’ are the two shortest. And yet they are often the ones that require the most thought before they are said. I think she loved me but was afraid to accept or she might not be in love. Only time and she can tell.
But never did I falter to end my life or cast off myself from my family and the vicinity. I moved on in my life with triumph and dignity. Though there would always be an aching loneliness inside my heart, I’m not looking forward to miss her, because there’s always something better to do than this.
And you cannot finish a book without closing its chapters. If you want to go on, then you have to leave the past as you turn the pages of life.
