What Is Love?

The girl that didn’t believe in love formerly turned to me and asked, “How do you know if you love someone?”

I didn’t say at the time but in my head, I couldn't help but think of the past. One question burned into my mind: "Do I truly know the meaning of the word?"

My attraction for him should have been more than a pretty face. Or the elegance of his voice. But that was what I was taught were the qualifications of a prince from a young age. The things on the television showed us that we each deserved an amazing love story. They taught us we needed a prince to save us from our boring lives, that we would know the meaning of love at first glance.

It was her brave smile and innocence. Things I later learned were unlikely in her circumstances. The toll her family's lack of loving nature would have left any other in ruin. Yet I didn’t call it love, we called it BFFs. At the time, no one understood how a young girl could fall for another.

As we grew, I loved her again. But rather as a friend. Someone who gave me both a home and a family. She gave me solace, she provided protection from the world.

There was a new boy in school. He didn’t mind seeing me in gym class. He’d race me each day, and even let me win though he surpassed me in every way. He was sweet, kind. He had his hardships yet never pushed his pain onto another.

I wasn’t like him. I pushed him away. I didn’t let him see me, scared he would leave if he saw how truly messed up I was inside.

It all became too much.

Then she came from another far away place. I encouraged her to say what she felt for him within her chest and now he’s happy. In a way, I didn’t lose him. And maybe they understand what love is. Except in a month, he will be moving across the country.

I loved her milky brown eyes. And her hands running through my hair. She was a friend, then later a partner. A bewilderment of firsts. It was new, it was incredible. We talked every moment.

Then every moment became this feeling of being watched. There was no me without her. My actions had to reach her expectations and never receive disapproval. We began to fight. She hated my friends, she loathed the idea of me being around others. I was hers and hers alone; I failed that expectation when I befriended my ex.

Love was for the person that didn’t mind the sight of me being broken. The one who picked up the pieces after the angered girl left me in ruin. This describes many, but mainly two.

There was him, charismatic and caring. We helped each other. To him, all of me was but a book to read. He got me to eat, to stop harming myself (and so did they...). I talked him out of rash decisions and we would tell jokes and knew everything about each other...I didn't know he'd leave me behind too.

I don’t believe he knew love. From one to another. The line between friend and lover merged and blended. Charismatic revealed itself to be flirtation. I allowed myself to fall countless times and so did others. In his wake lies heartbreak and bad decisions.

Now I’m out of the loop. He, my best friend, is happily in a relationship.

I didn’t love them. Not the way they would have wanted. Flattery clouded my vision. I told myself I reciprocated the feelings they had for me. But I saw something in them, a lack of self-awareness, bringing harm to others with their “love.”

The nights I cried on their shoulders, the secrets we confessed. The comfort of silence and even more when they said their life stories for only me. But they hurt us, destroyed the security I had found from them. They left, and I still feel the void they left within me.

Love is whimsical. Yet painful, torturous, and deceitful. Or at least, the idea of love; maybe I have yet to experience the wonders of love. The void of it leaves an unsatisfactory taste in my mouth, knowing the lips to caress mine without an ounce of love between them.