The Equation of Us

There was a time when I wanted to believe that love was something mysterious something beyond explanation. But lately, I keep thinking about it differently.

Maybe love is nothing more than chemistry. A combination of oxytocin, serotonin, dopamine, adrenaline tiny reactions inside the body that convince us that another person is extraordinary. Maybe that's why someone's eyes can break your heart without them even saying a word. Maybe that's why a person can suddenly become beautiful enough to make you forget everything else.

And yet, I keep telling myself not to fall for it.

I tell love not to knock on my door anymore.

I don't want sonnets. I don't want poetry. I don't want to romanticize something that can be explained by chemicals and impulses. Love seems almost trivial when you look at it that way understandable, perhaps, but still something I would rather keep at a distance.

There are bigger things to worry about anyway.

The world is changing. The planet is being damaged. The things we consume, the things we trust, the things we are told are safe sometimes I wonder what we're actually leaving behind for ourselves. There is something terrifying about watching everything unravel while the people with the power to change it seem unwilling to look.

And then, somehow, in the middle of all that chaos, there is her.

Beautiful.

Beautiful enough to interrupt every cynical thought I've had about love.

I imagine her beside me at some grand embassy ball. I imagine introducing her to rooms filled with people who think they matter. I imagine taking her somewhere far away London, Manhattan, anywhere that feels bigger than the life I have known.

For a moment, I feel powerful.

Masterful.

As if I have finally figured everything out.

And perhaps that's the problem.

Because after spending so long telling love to stay away, I suddenly find myself wondering whether I actually want it to.

Maybe I don't want to be alone anymore.

Maybe all those explanations about chemicals and hormones were just ways of protecting myself from something I couldn't explain.

Maybe love was never the mystery I was afraid of.

Maybe the real mystery was why I kept running from it.

So, love…

Perhaps you can knock once.

This time, I might actually open the door.

Thanks for Reading 

Prateek Gupta 

6:54 AM

Delhi, India