I’m in love with everybody except those close in my life. I’ll sit on a bus and fall in love with every passenger who sits down. I imagine their lives, and the possibility of them talking to me, allowing me to show them just how much I love them. But even when the bus is full, they still avoid the seat next to mine. Maybe they see the passion in my eyes. Maybe they feel repulsed by my desire to ask them for their time.
I fall in love with those who walk past. Would she bump into me and we’d end up at a cafe somewhere sharing a drink? No, she walks off, but the feeling is still there. The feeling is always there, as I feel each person has the possibility to offer me the love back.
I look at the people around me, the ones who interact, the ones who see me often. They make me feel discomfort, they kill my love. They take all my illusions of happiness and comfort and throw them against the wall. They break my love, they push a knife into the core.
Because here they just share their errors, their negatives. For me to love, I have to imagine that the negatives don’t exist. They break the illusion, so I’m more in love with those I don’t know.