i really [blank] you a lot

i’m stuck. more than usual; my words are stuck now too. it almost feels like even my hand gestures and my facial expressions are stuck. it feels like there’s an invisible bubble around my head, keeping even the most ardent thoughts from escaping my mind and maybe turning into something palpable. so let’s pretend my last name is frankenstein and here’s my monster of a blog post.

growing up, i was heavily exposed to classic rock. growing up, i kept finding parts of me scattered in music and i kept collecting them and building myself up. growing up, i understood complicated things more easily and so i knew that the beatles weren’t trying to say that love is the only thing you need, but rather that you can have everything else, but love is like glue that holds all of that together. growing up, i thought about that a lot; about love.

it took me almost two decades before someone told me that i’m not supposed to just love people; that i’m actually supposed to love people the way they want to be loved. and yet, i never wanted to accept that. and yet, i couldn’t help but be in awe of how many different loves i can feel and see and hear around me. but then, a few weeks ago, my mom said something to me; she said, ‘i love you so much, i’m trying to love you anyway i can, but it never seems to be quite right.’ and i know that, i know that my mom loves me, even though sometimes we don’t have patience for each other. she does love me, a lot. but it’s moments like that when i’m realising i’m not letting her, i’m not accepting it for some reason. (just how right was stephen chbosky when he wrote that ‘we accept the love we think we deserve’?)

i don’t want to refuse love just because it’s being uttered in a foreign language or because it’s painted in my least favorite colour (orange), or because it’s hidden between the lines or because it’s too loud. i want to accept more love than i think i deserve.

i have a friend who overuses pet names and makes little collages with cats and hearts for me, and who always cheers me on, whatever i do, and that’s how i know she loves me. her love is faithful; no matter what i do, it’s always happy for me and it always encourages me and gently squeezes my hand to let me know it’s there.

i have a friend who will never even admit she misses me, but she’ll tell me little anecdotes about how she saw this one chick that looked just like me and how she really wished it had been me. her love is shy; it doesn’t speak in words but it sits and shares a pizza with me when my whole world is sinking, and she walks and drinks coffee with me when my whole world is sleepless.

i have a friend who tries to show love through care, but thing is, he’s not that comfortable with expressing that either. so sometimes, on days that aren’t so good for me, i’ll catch him looking at me and he’ll hold my gaze and quietly ask if i’m okay. his love is protective; it never wants me to hurt and it never lets me be forgotten.

i have a friend who once printed out a really bad picture of me that she thinks is hilarious and wrote ‘i love you’ on the back of it, and gave it to me. she only ever says it quasi-jokingly, but i know she always means it when she does. her love is goofy; it jokes around and brings me my favorite chocolates while shouting ‘this is for you, glen coco,’ and it paints all my smiles.

i have a friend who just says he loves me, just like that. he says i encouraged him, that i made him feel like he can do that. he has a thousand and one way of showing me he loves me, but sometimes he says it too. his love is honest; it’s not wrapped in anything, it’s not forced or tactical, it’s a laugh that he doesn’t try to hold in.

i have a friend who says says ‘dude, i love you,’ but then she ew’s and frowns a little because she hates being too touchy feely and too sappy. with her, it’s more like it’s a given, she’ll remind me she feels that way, but i always get the impression i should perpetually be aware of it. her love is quiet; it knocks on my window only when the light inside goes out and it hands me a light bulb.

i have a friend who never finishes his declarations of love, he’ll stop in the middle of a sentence – or better yet, he won’t say anything at all – and just hug me and ruffle my hair, and give me this endlessly affectionate and warm smile. his love is cosy; every time i see him i know it’s still there, it’s still waiting for me with open arms, it’s still inviting me to take my shoes off and rest for a bit.

and my mom, she worries about me. she worries about me, and she thinks i’m magic, and sometimes her love is suffocating, and other times it tries to attach wings to my shoulder blades.

so the question is: do you accept the love that people give to you or do you demand the love that you give to people? i want a user’s manual to love.