When I was a kid, I used to like anyone with light skin, then the prettiest person in the room. As the worst case of the latter, I was crushing on someone knowing nothing about them and without even seeing their face. I remember feeling guilty when I eyed others in those times. But later, when I got to know more about them, I started to not like them. It was obvious that I caught feelings so easily only to realize that they aren’t real, and I hate myself more for the latter. So I decided not to do that anymore and set a rule for myself that I can take those feelings seriously only if they last, at least, an arbitrary but generous period of a year without their presence. My ingress into a new phase began with that rule in place.
There was this senior in our university who caught my eye the very first day we met. When they were around, I don’t remember feeling anything but the typical stiffness from the opposite sex: their oblivious bestowal. I learned how they would react to or say things. They sang this one song which became one of my favorites (not particularly because they sang it), and I just miss them whenever I listen to it, especially at nights when it used to be the time for our sleepless walks (separately). It was just twice that we met and a missed third time; heck, it would’ve been more if I’d known their schedule sooner. I remember going on walks in the middle of nights with my eyes burning just to get a sight of them. I wished to see them on the road even after their graduation. They graduated last year and left me to ruminate about them, to keep wishing I had talked more when I had the chance, and to regret the time I chose the other way to walk—I didn’t want to intrude on their solitude; wish I’d been rude. I remember feeling down knowing they had no idea I thought about them that much. It was just a month ago, that’s eleven months after their graduation, now I’m wondering, What was it that I felt for them? Was it “love?”—I can’t ask that though, ‘cause that would imply I know what “love” is. But at least, were those feelings romantic? I wonder.
There is this one from my class who is my type. Dare I say they are the very picture of my type. I mean the way they act, their low voice, their simple clothing, and the way… the way they basically exist, I like everything about them. They captivate me by doing nothing. I remember feeling excited as hell as I got to have a good look at them. The other day, their adorable face kept popping up in my head and I spontaneously muttered, “Man, they’re pretty.” I’d tried my best to ignore those feelings ‘cause I knew they were just the play of proximity, and I knew they would just fade away once I graduated, just like before. But as I’m graduating this month, I just can’t take the fact that we will have nothing in common anymore, that we won’t be associated anymore, that I won’t be able to see their face anymore, that I won’t be able to see them exist anymore. My eyes well up a few times whenever I think about that.
And I was vaguely attracted to a few more people at the same time. All of them were partly my type. I couldn’t help but let my eyes or ears stray their way. I felt, and still feel, like a fraud for this.
“I can’t feel love.” I said it, feeling completely numb, to the person who confessed their feelings for me. The few times we interacted were so painfully perplexing as I felt nothing for one while obsessing over another who might not even know I exist. It was terrifying. (I exaggerated here. They might be aware of my existence. After all, we were in the same class. But it’s just that they didn’t give a damn. Honestly, why should they? What am I even expecting here?)
This is enough proof that my feelings are not genuine and that I’m shallow. If none of my feelings last or, worse, I reason out that they are not real, then I can’t build anything with that. That is what I meant by “I can’t feel love.” I will never feel real love, whatever that is. I don’t have it. I don’t believe I can.
But recently, I figured out what I was doing and what my idea of love is. All these years, all I did was crush and fantasize about the other person—and I don’t think I can stop doing that anytime soon. But love can’t be just that, right? I believe it is not even an emotion by itself, but rather a mishmash of feelings saddled with the desire to have a life with the other person. My definition of love is so loose that it can contain all sorts of love, be it familial or romantic, monogamous or polygamous, heterosexual or homosexual, or whatever. Yet, it tranquilly rejects the fleeting feelings I have.
The attraction to notice them is all I have. There is no desire in me to have a life with them. I had never imagined myself having a life with the other person, I don’t now either; actually it’s “I can’t.” I wouldn’t blame myself for it, ‘cause when I close my eyes, I see nothing. I see no life. How could I bring someone into a life that doesn’t exist?
2026-05-12