When the night came, he was beside me, sleeping already. I watched him snoring gently with his eyes closed and face tired. I watched him closely and all of his imperfect details completing mine. I thought about love and just like that, I fell asleep in love.
How could the universe handle all the love and hatred of us, human beings, Maera? I kept wondering in my dream, holding him with my flawed little hands.
A: Do you believe in love at the first sight?
B: Well, yes but no. I believe in ‘something’ at the first sight. It could be the good look or the smile or your favorite band’s logo on the t-shirt or your favorite book being read. Or it could be an illusion. Whichever happened, you need to work on it later. If it developed the way you hoped, then you’d mention to everybody, ‘It was a love at the first sight.’ If it didn’t work well or it turned out that the person is someone’s else husband or wife or a jerk or schizophrenic or too broke to afford a date, then you’d tell people not to believe in bullshit such love at the first sight. But I guess love is not discrete, not, you know, in one second you aren’t in love and the next one you are. It’s a funny thing anyway.
Dear Maera,
At one point you’ll understand that love isn’t magic. That love takes and gives. That love means accepting someone completely with all the flaws, the bended and even the broken parts caused by someone else in the past. Love means accepting that some damages can not be repaired and some shades of color can not be repainted.
That love means accepting someone with all those unseen tiny holes inside, those tiny holes we can never get into, those tiny holes filled with other things we’re never sure of, those tiny holes that might be just empty.
And that someone can be yourself.
Love,
P
BW 