They Say I’ve Never Been In Love
That because I’ve never looked deep into the eyes of a partner and uttered those words with such conviction, that I’ve never been in love.
They say that because I’ve never declared my romantic love for another person in such a momentous and intimate way, that I have never felt it.
They say it will happen.
But it already has.
There are times when my mental illness takes a short break and forgets to be unwell.
The little emotion controller in my mind briefly falls asleep on the job and subsequently allows some pleasure to pass through.
Whatever chemicals spiral inside the brain like a shaking snow-globe are momentarily paused, and I am happy.
In those moments I am truly and utterly in love.
I am in love with the sun on my back.
I am in love with the sight of an old man walking his old dog, the two of them with matching whiskers.
I am in love with my mother and want to cradle her in my arms, as she did when I was small.
I am in love with my friends to such an extent that my heart feels like it will burst.
I am in love with the world at times for being so utterly beautiful.
I am in love with every small act of kindness I see or am the recipient of.
I am in love with the sound of a song being sung loudly, off-key and without shame.
“I love you!” I want to scream into the sky (but I might startle a bird).
Does this sound cheesy? Of course it does. Does this sound flowery and over-sentimental? Sure.
But that’s how it feels.
When the rest of the days are either filled with manic distress or a numbing fog, this brief interlude is bliss.
It is heaven.
It is love.