The Silent Gravity of Love: A Force We Can’t Escape
I think he is more special than 99% of the people walking this planet, and it must be lonely.
The thing that stood out the most was his eyes. Dark and kind at first glance, but if you’d look just a little bit deeper you could sense there was more to him. There’s a depth to his stare that reveals a magnetic force, yet I’m not exactly sure what it is. Countless times I looked intently to try and understand what he was showing me, but he never revealed much. I can’t be sure, but I teehink there is darkness inside him. When he looks at me, he looks thoroughly, and it is as if he can see right through me. I can’t hide, nor do I want to. I want him to see me. I want to show myself to him, and for him to see who I really am — something I have kept hidden from others for most of my life. Surely, I’ve shown people parts of who I am, but I’d never met anyone who intrigued me to this extent, who I respected, and who I trusted to be very careful with it. The “it,” I guess, would be me — my ego.
He was intelligent. More than that, he was wise. Being intelligent is a gift, but anyone who studies and puts in the time and effort can be intelligent. Being wise is something different — to be able to try and understand things on a deeper level. To be able to reflect upon oneself, ones behaviors, and that of others. Without judging, purely with the intention to understand. And to know that even when you do understand, you still don’t. For nothing is absolute. There is no black and white. There is no right or wrong. And there is so much we can’t comprehend.
Yes, I thought him to be very wise. I enjoyed being with him, listening to him speak. He always said he didn’t talk a lot, but I felt he did — or at least it was enough for me. But more than talking I enjoyed being silent with him. When we would walk together without saying anything. I would be in my own space, and I assume he was in his. I love being with my own thoughts and feelings, and every now and then I would look at him and feel him being there, in my presence. Two different planets at perfect distance from each other in the universe. Both self-sufficient and independent, but still enjoying each other’s company. It was quite special, this connection. To feel this accepted by another human. To feel this sense of value and appreciation. It is as if someone is telling you: “Thank you for being your unique self. You are amazing.”
Sometimes, there is no preventing yourself from loving someone, and I fell for him. I felt a sense of love for him before he’d even looked at me the way he does, with that deep, enigmatic stare. I fell in love with him the first time we had spent an entire day together. I wasn’t looking to fall in love with him — not at all, to be honest. It didn’t even cross my mind. But I did feel comfortable with him, the most comfortable I’d felt with someone in a long time. Our friendship felt natural, effortless. We went for a hike, and while we were climbing back up the rocks, I felt it. It was there instantaneously — a warm, loving feeling. I wanted to keep him safe, protect him, and care for him. I felt he deserved that. I was surprised by it because it was different. I loved him — not for me, but for him. It was selfless. Why it happened I don’t know.
He was kind to me, yes, but a lot of people are kind to me, and that doesn’t make me fall in love with them. I don’t feel the desire to be with them or care for them more than is socially expected when someone is nice. He was different — he was special. People always say that everyone is special, and I guess that might be true in a way, but not to me. Definitely, not everyone is special to me. Hardly anyone is, actually. I wonder if he’ll ever be “not special” to me again. When I stop seeing him, when our lives follow different paths, I wonder if he will be nothing more than a vague memory. Just someone I loved once upon a time..
What made him special to me was his kindness, an undervalued quality in this world. He was kind enough to let people be who they were, or at least that is how I saw him. He was respectful to everyone he spoke to and would never intentionally make anyone feel bad. Next to that, he was smart and highly analytical. He made me see things in a different way, from a different perspective. I highly valued him sharing his knowledge with me. His mind was a map that I wanted to study and understand, although I probably never could. I wanted to understand how he thinks, how the connections are formed in his brain, how he relates things to one another, or, conversely, how he detaches from what he knows — he spoke a lot about accepting and detaching.
Being with him was an intriguing series of episodes and — as with a good television show — I was sad when it ended. Not only for this, for his mind, but also for the love I felt for him. For the love I wanted to share with him, but could not anymore. I would love to hold him, even if it’s just for a few moments. I probably shouldn’t, and it would be best if I don’t, because letting go only becomes harder. Letting someone go when you love them is hard. It might be selfish to want him in my life — to want to love him and for him to love me. To want to share so much more moments with him, and to have his planet right beside mine in this galaxy. To play, to laugh, to love, to learn, to teach, and to grow together. I’m attached to him. Whereas, as I mentioned before, he always talked about being detached.
I wonder sometimes, if you’re able to detach from everything, does anything really have value? Maybe he values differently, or he values different things. Maybe he is wiser than me in this too. Maybe it is wise of him to let go. I know we are very different, but in this matter especially. For me, to value something means to appreciate it, cherish it, protect it, and fight for it. When I care, I care. When I love, I love. And for me, love is loyalty. It is not some vague statement, some state I easily switch into or out of. I know I am intense, and I know probably a lot of people would feel or behave differently than I do. Perhaps I’d be better off changing this characteristic — it would probably make my life a whole lot easier — but I do not want to. I do not want to change this about me. It is something I identify with so strongly and profoundly that changing it would be a betrayal. And I prefer to be hurt rather than lose this part of me, because I feel that if I did, I would lose myself.
Perhaps I didn’t see him properly, although I’ve looked at him a lot. Maybe I interpreted things differently or saw things that weren’t there. Did I imagine it? Or maybe I consciously or subconsciously didn’t see him fully. Maybe I was too focused on his eyes, and that stare was too distracting, too intense for me to see anything else clearly. But I don’t think it was that, I think I did see him clearly. Even if there was still so much I didn’t know about him, I believe I saw his essence. My conclusion can only be that he is special. I think he is more special than 99% of the people walking this planet, and it must be lonely.
