Why you don’t feel love

There was a man once. I write letters to him sometimes. He won’t tells me he doesn’t love me, but he does tell me he is fond of me, often.

Love is weird. I don’t love him either.

But a lot of these emotions are close together. Affection, fondness, love.

I don’t tell him I love him, but I do tell him I adore him.

The feeling of throwing your arms around someone, like a child.

A childish love.

That’s how I feel. It’s not quite love.

I’ve been completely smitten. That’s close too. But it’s also not love.

For love to happen you need to let it happen. You need to have a kind of trust. It doesn’t work if the other person isn’t open to your love.

I am convinced, and maybe I am wrong, but for now I am not convinced that love can be not reciprocal. It can be obsession, fandom, or lust. But not love. Because if they won’t let you see them, then you don’t see them. You can’t love them if they don’t let you.

Men who say they don’t fall in love—do you even want to? Do you want to love, in this moment, if you were truly honest with yourself? Or is there something that is stopping you?