I am 19. Do not listen to what I am about to say.
Love is blind. That’s what people sometimes say. They say that you can’t help with whom you fall in love with.
That’s kinda weird.
What if you really wanted to fall in love with the cashier at the supermarket? How about the person sitting three rows in front of you on your plane back home? They looked like you could probably love them, but that’s not how it works according to the saying. You would have liked to love ’em, nay, you would have loved to love them. However, you can’t be making decisions like that because you are not Love, you are fleshy and soft. If you were Love, you would be blind and you are not blind considering the cashier at the supermarket looked like you could really love them.
Do I personally believe that Love is blind? Maybe not. I just think Love is near sighted. Of course you can’t tell who you will be in love with in, say, 5 years, but when 5 years passes, you have a pretty good idea of who is lovable. The love of your life is blurred out and in the distance. You can make out the shape of your love, but that’s about it. It takes time for them to walk closer and come into focus. It will be right when your lover is right in front of you when you’ll know who Love had saved for you all that time.
But let’s say you are now in love.
Must be nice.
However, your love is now invisible. Either that or everyone else is blind to your love.
Think about it.
The waiter at the restaurant you went last week? Yeah, he’s been married for 12 years. You didn’t know that did ya?
Did you know that a librarian in Huston, Texas has been in love with the man of her dreams for approximately 24 months?
The answer is no.
Sadly, no one cares for a stranger’s love. No one cares about a stranger’s sweet nothings said in their partner’s ear. No one cares about the time a stranger loved another stranger. We only care about stranger love when it’s no longer stranger love. Once it has connected with us, or gotten close enough for us to see, stranger love loses its adjective.
If I told you that the librarian in Huston, Texas was named Susan and had been in love with Matthew for approximately 24 months. Matthew met Susan when they were both 73 in the library. “She was the prettiest thing I ever saw,” he said during her funeral two years later. He held back his tears as his kids, as well as Susan’s, watched from their chairs.
“I don’t know how she loved an old man like m’self, but I’m glad she did.” He kissed the pads of his soft, wrinkled hand and pressed them on her coffin.
With the little context that I provided, you at least asked yourself, “Why did you have to kill her?”
That’s my point. Their love no longer was stranger love to you. You knew about their love; it came in focus. And I know the example was very short, but you must’ve cared more about Susan and Matthew’s love then when she was first mentioned earlier.
Love just has to come into focus for us to see it fully, and care about it.
But of course you know not of everyone’s love. There are almost 8 billion people in the world and each of them probably will fall in love one day, but you won’t see that happen. At least not all of it. Same goes the other way. People might not pay attention to your love because you’re a stranger to them. You and your partner are just blurs in the distance to the strangers that are too far away to see.
So, love. Love like no one else is watching.
Because they’re not.