What even is love?
According to Ortega y Gasset, “We fall in love when our imagination projects nonexistent perfection upon another person. One day, the fantasy evaporates and with it, love dies.” But isn’t this what we always do? Aren’t there moments we live in which we look around, at the people, the buildings, the trees, and see perfection yet feel so far away from it? Thus, we get to love it.
We can fall in love with almost anyone, even with the ones we expect it less. However, not with family. The family we already love, and we love them unconditionally and without a particular reason; because when we’re falling for a person, we’re seeking reasons. We know we’ll be asked why. What do you see in him? In her? And we love their eyes, their lips, how they laugh or how they cry when they’re not around.We’re searching for superficial explications in order to get away, to avoid saying how we truly feel; but let’s be honest that not even we know why and when we love.
Then, magic happens.
miracle= (noun) an extraordinary and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore attributed to a divine agency; a remarkable event or development that brings very welcome consequences; an exceptional product or achievement, or an outstanding example of something.
In other words, a miracle is what inexplicably happens both around us and inside our hearts. It makes us happy, but it also upsets us, it creates jealousy, it helps us relive memories. Love makes it so that the ups and downs, the past and the future, life and death are no longer seen in contradictory.
It’s a force above what we can control. It’s a gracious state of mind.
You find yourself in a place where you’re perfectly happy. You’ve met people you’re genuinely happy with: your best friend, your friend group, your family. They’re people you individually and differently care about. Let’s say you and your sister have your life planned out. She is always there for you and you love her. You love her, but you don’t love her the same way you love your mother or your crush/significant other. Let’s say you spend the night, with or without a glass of wine at a person you love, because they’re important for you.
Emotional essays inserted in the middle of the entry aside, imagine the pain I felt when I saw (literally saw; I don’t mean “realized”, I mean it was in front of me physically) my chances shatter. I turned my back and walked away.
It looked easy, and others saw it as no problem. “Maybe she went to class or something,” I reckon hearing then faintly. It wasn’t that. I couldn’t stand to look. The way to wherever I was going felt like the most horrible walk of shame. It felt worse than walking on spikes, it felt as if something was both pushing and dragging me down and I was fighting to walk.
And I realized I wasn’t over it, not even close to it. So, the next time you ask me, no. I’m not fine.