To love is to see, and to be loved is to be seen.
I was blinded once by it as it failed to notice me; in their eyes, I was a faint glow of quintessence— a thing that doesn't need to be taken care of because it's already too perfect.
When I was in grade school, I always wondered what a romantic love would feel like. Other than reading it only in fictional books, watching in films, and hearing it in love radios. In a fairytale movie, I wanted to paint myself being taken care of, like I’m the most precious thing a person could have, someone too perfect for their liking, and too valuable to be cherished.
I dreamed that love is the richest thing a person could have; that love is all about red roses, kissing in the moonlight, and dancing in the sound of the waters.
Thus, I was too blinded by my belief that love is almost perfect that everyone could ask for. I didn’t see the thorns hiding in these beautiful roses, I was too busy dreaming of kisses behind the blood moon, and I failed to notice the monsters lurking in the deepest of waters as I was distracted by the harmonious dance. I was tricked. I was blinded by the thought of love.
When I reached freshmen in highschool, my belief of a fairytale love started to grow roots of complexity; after some time, I learned that it's not all about kissing, smiling, laughing, and dancing with your special someone.
From the books I read, I understood that love is also about breakups, sadness, giving up, longing, and grief. People can also be sad in love, not just happy; and people can sacrifice their love, just to be happy.
From these perspectives, I started to question my ability to actually feel love. Am I capable of reaching extremities for the person I love? Who am I gonna love? Am I deserving of it? Am I for love?
There are so many questions that started to linger in my mind as I started to think how this emotion is actually so simple in the start, yet so complicated when I grew up. I just used to know love from the mouth of my parents, from the movies I watched, and the books I read. I wasn't prepared yet for the time that I’m actually the one experiencing it.
Is love gonna break me?
Is love gonna see me the way I just see myself?
As I started my senior year, these questions were still left unanswered for the fact that I was inexperienced. Too inexperienced that I felt like love waited long enough inside me that it overflowed.
When I found a person that seems to glow differently in my perspective, drawn to their enigmatic presence, and their aura that screams just the same as mine. I know it was this ‘oh’ moment.
I was in love.
And for all the years I prepared myself for this, I was out of words. I didn't really know what to do.
I was dumbfounded. But I found myself through it, I grasped the way I was comfortable to show my love; my very own love languages all pouring to my person. I showered them affirming words, I gave them presents, I became attentive to whatever they would say; I gave my all to them.
Only for it all would end up in my own crestfallen face when I realized that despite giving them all, I was the one suffering, I was the one begging for reciprocation for giving my all.
I was not seen for myself and its authenticity, but I was seen for what I have done and sacrificed for them.
I didn’t see what they really needed, because I was blinded by the light of my own paradise of giving love. I didn’t really care about what they wanted.
As I graduated from my senior highschool, far from that little kid with fairytale desires. I was struck with a realization about love.
It's not all about what you sacrifice.
But it's all about its conformity, reciprocation, and the ability to see and understand your loved ones transparently.
To love is to see,
and to be loved is to be also seen.
