Mystery of Love

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It’s crazy how people in love and people who are still figuring it out are all equally unaware that love in fact is something that makes people go bonkers not just physically, emotionally or mentally but at the very psychological level. All guided by the random hormones pushing the nerves and heart to work overtime and give us what we call butterflies, love letters, songs and all those random ideas like jumping the fence to see someone’s face. 

I have definitely been a lover girl, it was always the rose tinted glasses for me till the age of 10, I know it was early and I was very well aware of the heinous world we live in, I just did not know how to process it better till 5-6 years later when I talked about it and maybe now 15 years later I have finally processed it all to close them and make peace. And while I did that I still chose to wear the rose glasses throughout and I am so proud of myself for that. It would be so boring to sit with my grand kids later in life and not have stories to tell them. It's separate that I spun stories equally well, but still I will try to stay absolutely true to them when I let them know their granny used to be a dancer and that I so badly wanted to learn ballet. I am so going to create my version of “To all the boys I’ve loved before” and name it “P.S. I just liked them, nothing serious”. I think the people’s favorite will be the senior guy from fifth grade, who’s face I don’t remember!! The end note will mention a disclaimer to not ask me how I recall everything so much in detail, because how will they ever understand what goes in the heart of a girl who romanticized everything, like I legit saw a bright star and thought if the guy who was left in the different city while I moved places must be looking at it at the exact same moment and thinking about me. I was 12, just 12 then. 

I did all the sweet things. I only wish they stay alive within people. Like I made my father drive around an entire neighbourhood thrice so I could see the kid from my class who liked me first but I freaked and shrieked when he told me about it. In my defence we were only 11, and I had just moved back to the same school after 5 years. I just have a photo with him from back in kindergarten when we were allowed to love and hold hands and kiss and be friends without being romantically linked. I liked him, I sure did but not as a boyfriend eeewwwww. The idea of a boyfriend doesn’t sit with me that well. Still doesn’t, either you are a lover and a partner or just a boy friend. This is definitely what my mother told me when I asked her, and this definition makes absolute sense. Boys always made good friends till they all started acting weird, someone told them wrong, a girl liking their photos and complimenting them on generic stuff is not romantic, sharing experiences and opening up doesn’t mean that she will kiss you next. Some of us know that after situation of extreme emotional outburst, loneliness follows and if the emotional maturity is not at where it should be, it does go the same like in those romance movies, but in reality we pack our loneliness in a backpack and go travel, or eat chocolates and sleep for 20 hours straight but not give another guy a wrong hint; until we do. Know that when that happens it’s intentional, like girls will let loose to test the water and see where it goes till the water freezes them or gives them burns. That’s the problem, the majority of the time we just don't know when to get out.

With all my resources and studies on the XY chromosome, I must say, they don’t speak, they don’t let you in, and expect you to just go with the flow as if asking for reasons is the world’s most horrific thing to do. Dear men, we like you, we say it and then it's on you to keep that feeling up. If she is attached, she is a problem and you demand space, if she is chill and she walks away then you question her on how she could walk out so easily. Communicate. It's not that complicated and this is not just for a romantic relationship, I am struggling to handle my teenage brother on this as well. This boy has given me more trauma than the entire male community could ever give. Then all he does is go bring me pastries and noodles as if it opens up the knotted threads in my heart. That’s what's crazy about love. You have the same set of hormones but they make you act so differently for different people in your life. It's so amazing. I think it should be studied if the receptors are different for every time the hormones are released, because how in the world am I still in absolute love, the purest of all, the best one in the universe, with my brother when I would have definitely kicked the shit out of any other guy who would even dare to talk the same way he does. For some reason he never really grew up in my head, I still see him as that small ball of joy whose first word was calling me and not anything else, at least I was someone’s entire world at any given point in time.

I think we have the answer here, we just love someone for the perception of what we create based on the beliefs we instil in ourselves and also the slight faith we have left in upbringing and humanity. But the truth is, life, however common, comes differently to each one of us and with that we become different people even when we are in the same typical environment as most of the people living. This is the beauty of it, the way we create life around, we crave validation yet end up accepting that the only thing valid is us, the only entity in me, I sometimes wonder if we are all part of some simulation, if anything at all is real, and then I feel love. The way my mother, who by the way hates physically expressing her love in kisses or hugs, sits by me early in the morning as I sleepily turn and bury myself more in the blanket, she looks at me I feel her warm gaze, then very gently strokes my eyebrows and my hair, she ends up counting all those white hair popping out on my head because of stress and staying away from her. The love, when my brother scoots in arms just like when he was a baby to stay there and pretend to sleep because only I can let him sleep those extra minutes when mummy is behind him. And the love when my poems, and presents make my father cry like a baby, the same man who had the entire city on his head minutes ago when he was getting his office deal done. Or the times my bestie listens to my live telecast from a random situation, being equally invested, even though we are timezones apart. This is when I understand there is no way any of this is unreal. There is no way two people who actually love can be parted. No distance, no age, no gender comes in the way.

Romantically speaking, it would be a lie if I say I did not like it when “he” complimented me when I was being conscious about my pimples. He called me cute because my face had a natural blush. Or when he listened to me rant about how my health is seemingly creating a problem, and next day brought me different tablets for every symptom I mentioned.  Or the time when a different “he” held my hand and helped me cross the busiest road, it felt like we were in a movie running between the roads, and the headlights from cars became the spotlight on us. Or the time when we got drenched in rain after the hailstorm, but instead of going into hiding we saved our phones and then sang songs at the top of our lungs and drove through the rain. Or the time when this guy blocked the traffic with his amazing bike and asked me to cross the road, I was so impressed I even wrote a poem on that! Or the time when I almost slept tired while another “he” drove me back home on his bike. Or when he told me he liked me more than a friend. To the guys who have had the guts to say that to me after knowing how I am as a friend it must be hard, and yet a strong feeling that they had to come up and tell me so. I am sorry, though I might have absolutely loved those moments, I couldn’t bring myself to think of an endgame, and hence I couldn’t say I was in love ever. Because how could I tell them that I loved them in a different way altogether, and how could I tell the ones I liked, that I liked them in exactly the way they mention in those Victorian books. So I left them all, believing that someone who never leaves will find me somehow. Irony is there is no way they can! But then this is the perk of being delusional enough to think “I don’t chase, I attract” and then be in reality enough to also understand that for attraction to happen there should be two entities involved.

So to wrap it up in a positive way, which I do almost all the time I came up with a very fulfilling thought.

“Love yourself enough to be able to love someone else better.”

That’s it, that’s the mystery of love, to love yourself in reality because only then I saw all those people who loved me too.