Even though I don’t really believe in the concept of ‘love,’ I still, every now and then, wonder about what it could actually be and if it really exists. 

I wondered about it today.

I sit mindlessly at the computer skimming through books and articles as part of my makeup work while you sit behind me. You take out your phone because you have a missed call. I am listening to your conversation.

Hey what’s up.

I love you too.

…

I love you too.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

 You said it so many times in just a short phone call. I didn’t really understand the significance of me trying to dissect anything any further. It’s just so puzzling. 

I was a little jealous—only because you had someone there for you.

I was jealous of anyone who had someone there for them—a best friend, a lover, a fiance, a parent, etc.

I wondered, what it could be like. To have someone that I could call or say something like that to. To have someone to hug and laugh with me and act silly with and keep me warm on most days. To have someone make this world feel less lonely than it already did. To have someone to love and love back, even if it doesn’t exist.

But who am I kidding?

I do not believe in love.

Love does not believe in me.

Love does not exist.