The Love I Can’t Explain

Love cannot be explained. It can only be experienced. Love cannot be explained, yet it explains it all.

Elif Shafak, in The Forty Rules of Love, wrote a line that truly stopped me: “No third person could ever understand why you love whom you love, because for that, you need my eyes.”

Love is such a complicated thing to talk about. It’s even harder to try and explain why I love him. I could spend forever trying, but I know that all my words won’t even explain 0.1% of the reason. To understand, you’d have to see him through my eyes, because they see details no one else does.

When he speaks, his lips move and his words feel like a gentle medicine for wounds you can’t see. It’s like his voice is calming every worry I have. And when I look into his eyes, it feels like he is giving me all the goodness and kindness the world has to offer. They are the safest place I know. Even his hair, when the wind goes through it, seems to make the breeze itself want to stay there longer, held by something special. And the way he dresses — it makes me think his clothes are thanking God that they get to touch such a beautiful human. And his hands, whenever they are raised, they are always protecting someone from the harshness of life. They are a silent promise of safety.

There are times I look at him and feel so much awe. His soul is so pure — so good — that all I want to do is keep him safe with everything I have. I’m truly surprised he managed to stay like this after all the hard things he went through. It feels like a miracle. When I see him, I don’t just see a person; I believe that God exists, and a piece of that goodness lives inside him.

Someday I would take 3 flowers. First, I would take one flower to a temple. I’d give it to the idol there, a simple thank you to God for making such a good soul. Then, I would take the second flower to his mother. I’d thank her for raising and bringing such a special person into the world. Finally, I would take the last flower to him. I would give it to him alone, because he is the divinity I feel is worth looking up to and honoring. He is the quiet sign that the light will always shine.

And maybe, this whole thing seems too simple or even cliché to do, but I feel that’s exactly what this kind of love is — unbelievable, right? In truth, it would be an insult to the person he is if I only said I love him; I worship him for exactly who he is. This isn’t because he’s perfect, or because he never makes mistakes, or because he doesn’t have his flaws. It’s only because of how he holds all those imperfections, how he feels truly guilty if he hurts someone even by accident, and how he always wants to give without ever expecting anything back.

I worship the way he smiles, like he wants to spread all the happiness he owns and take away the pain of everyone else. I worship the way he quietly fights his own battles and yet always steps up to support the battles others are fighting. Or maybe, it’s just that I love the way I see myself through him. The more I fall in love with him every day, the more I fall in love with myself, almost as if he doesn’t just live inside me, but he is me. This proves that first line again: no matter how much I write, no matter how hard I try to explain, I will never truly be able to explain why I love him and what his presence makes me feel. The real reason is simply too big for words.

If I had to explain it in the simplest way possible, I would say this: he makes me believe that God exists, and at the same time, he makes me accept that God doesn’t need to be just believed in — it needs to be loved.