Photoproses 02. The Person Called Love
Tonight, you and I are standing in front of a neon sign that reads 'love is'.
We are together this time around, too. Midnight companions, that's what you and I are. Our paths only cross when it's late; when there are barely any people around; when it seems like you and I are the only two people in the world. We usually end up sitting or standing side by side in silence, parting ways a few moments before dawn breaks.
However, tonight is a bit different from all the other nights.
"What do you think love is?" You ask me. The tone of your voice is gentle, but there’s an underlying wistfulness to it. It's the first time either of us has ever initiated a conversation and I admit, it surprises me. I turn to you curiously, waiting for you to tell me what prompted you to ask the question. You smile at me without saying a word.
It was then that I realize that you won't give me an answer, so I reply, "I think it means a lot of things. After all, there are a lot of definitions for love."
You nod. "That is true, but what is it for you?"
I take a moment to consider what love means for me. I can't help but think of how the question has an almost sentimental quality to it.
(Another thought comes, unbidden. Are you perhaps a sentimental person?)
You tilt your head to the side, waiting for my answer. My eyes follow the movement.
"Love, I think," I answer softly, "is a choice and a beginning.
“How so?”
“You choose to begin loving yourself, and eventually, you choose to begin loving other people, too. When you love, you choose to begin allowing other people to love you in the same way. That's what I think love is."
Your eyes meet mine and the soft pain in your gaze startles me. It makes me want to ask, “What's hurting you?” But the words refuse to fall past my lips because if I ask, will you give me an answer?
"That's a nice way to think about love," you comment quietly, shifting your attention to the neon sign. I follow suit and end up staring at it, too. It flickers off from time to time, but it’s still impossible to miss the words it's lighting up.
Two words, 'love is' in bold crimson.
"They named me Love," You say, your words a mere whisper, as if you were divulging a secret, "But it seems to me like I have everything and understand everything but love."
I return my gaze to you and see that you're wearing a sad smile. In this moment, I think about our peculiar arrangement as midnight companions; strangers, but not quite friends, either. I do not know yet the you in the daylight, and what I do know about the you in the midnight are merely small pieces of a much larger picture that I don't quite yet know how to put together.
But tonight, as I stare at your face illuminated by the crimson glow of the neon sign, I realize that I want to learn how to put them together, the pieces of you in the midnight and the fragments of you in the daylight.
(If you will allow me to, I would like to get to know you.)
"Love is," I whisper and you turn to me. "A choice and a beginning. It's something you can choose to start for yourself."
"I'd like to believe that there's still time," I continue, "time for you to have love and to understand it in your own way."
You regard me with surprise. "That's very kind of you, thank you," you murmur.
I smile at you softly. "You don't have to do it alone, either," I say. I see your lips curl up slightly and your expression morph into something hopeful.
Dawn breaks, illuminating the both of us. You and I are still standing together in the daylight.
(A choice and a beginning.)
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Photoproses 02. The Person Called Love by ReverberatingEchoes 🖤💙
Proofread by the wonderful: @ichigo-daifuku 🖤💙