We don’t teach ourselves to love. We don’t even try. It isn’t something we force on ourselves. It just comes. Like the wind. It comes from nowhere and sweeps us, our hearts included, over. Love is like this strong magnet. Yes you’re already hurt from the first ordeal, and the wounds are still healing. But when it comes… there’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing you can hold on to. Love doesn’t care about the past. Or what you have been through.


Sometimes you don’t notice it. It’s like a ghost. It goes through your texts, listens to your phone calls and then decides to make everything change between the two of you. It decides to make her hand feel warmer in yours when you greet each other. This ghost decides to make the hug tighter and longer. It makes her eyes brighter and sweeter to look into. And her laugh. Oh her laugh. It makes you hear every single rising and falling sound from her laugh. It drowns you in the sound of her laughter as if you are inside her happiness. Her voice resonates in your brain and before long you find yourself swearing you’ve never in your entire life listened to a laugh so natural and so pure and so bright and so deep and so magical. Then it so happens, sooner than you can imagine, that you fall for her and words fail you. And literally no adjective in this world can describe how you feel about her.

It becomes clear that you love her one day when she’s opening the door for you. You can’t stop staring into her eyes. Everything around you stops. It is like the whole world no longer exists. Nothing. Not even the loud neighbours. Her lips unknowingly curve into a beautiful smile as she releases the latch. And you want her to take a lifetime opening the door. So that you can sip it all in and tell it to your great grandchildren one night under shooting stars whilst your heart explodes in ecstasy.

But this world is stupid and you can’t tell her what you feel. Or maybe it is us humans who’re stupid. “The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them when they are alive”.

And so to make up for our lack of words, we start throwing cues here and there. Hoping the people we badly want in our lives will notice us. Notice the cues and then what?

We don’t think. We think yes, but we don’t think clearly. And sometimes we say that it is love that is blinding us but we are wrong. Love is clear as day. It doesn’t think. It doesn’t blind. It is us who blind ourselves.

“Maybe she’ll see the way I look at her and know that something is up”.

“He knows, I like him. I even invited him for lunch.”

“Why did she invite me for lunch? Is it because she just wanted her laptop fixed? Crap. These girls know how to use us!”

“He hugged me. Oh My God, he hugged me! …Ah he hugged her too the other day! Maybe it is something he does”

“I hugged her for almost a minute. That should count for something.”

We make excuses for all the chances that come our way. We fear getting into relationships because we might end up arguing over this and that. And so we sit and convince ourselves that it was just a crush, an infatuation. These things are normal. We build walls to hide ourselves. Wanting but not wanting. Hoping to fall in love but not prepared to build a relationship. Falling for one another but fearing to say it out loud.

And so we hold hands in the night while walking together, or while watching a movie. We stare into each other’s eyes from across the road and smile awkwardly. We sit close to each other and the energy around us melts our insides. We play footsies and bet about stuff just so our fingers can meet. We hug each other after every lecture and find every means possible to just be alone. But still we can’t garner the courage to talk to each other about our love and relationship. And so we call it quits before it even starts. We run away from each other.

“See this my friend, I loved her.  If anyone asked me why I loved her, I can’t quite answer. It wasn’t some quality or feature in her that made me love her. It wasn’t just her beauty that attracted me to her. Neither was it her dressing nor her clique. It was something more than her intelligence or her choice of words. Something more than the Chemistry. It was more.” His eyes are red. It seems to me he has been crying. Or maybe that’s how they’ve been for the past 2 or so weeks. Life must have taken a toll on him.

He continues, “I loved how she would hug me. I loved how her lips moved when she talked and how she held her hair and tell people that one day she’ll have the best and longest hair. I loved how worried she would become when something she had no control over was about to happen. I loved how passionate she was when explaining herself. I loved the sound of her voice. And her English. I loved her eyebrows. I loved her hands. I loved when she was frightened. Or when she was angry and needed consoling.” He pauses. I don’t want to interject and spoil everything. If I was the one saying all these things, I wouldn’t want anyone to cut me short.

“There’s so much I loved in her. And the question “Why did you love her?” doesn’t quite make sense to me.” He finishes.

“I am sorry,” I say. “I will write your story.”

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