What Is Love?

The popcorn sat untouched between us, growing cold. The film flickered shadows across the room, but the only sound I heard was her soft, broken crying.

“I really thought he loved me,” she whispered, twisting the tissue in her hands like it was the only thing keeping her together.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. What else could I offer? I wanted to take her pain away, yet I couldn’t help but think she was being slightly pathetic, crying over a guy. But she was my friend, and she had been there for me when I needed her. Maybe she had once felt the same as I did now, but she never said anything. I would do the same.

“Love fucking sucks. I’m never falling again.”

She turned to me then, eyes red and raw. “What do you think love is?”
I wasn’t sure where this question came from. I don’t think she knew either. But she was upset, emotional — sometimes the strangest things slip out of our mouths.

I wanted to give her something simple, something hopeful. But the truth slipped out instead.
“I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Didn’t you love Ali?”

“I suppose. But… I don’t know. There’s no clear description of love.”

“Of course there is,” she argued, her voice cracking. “Love is when you want to sleep with someone, get married, grow old together. Holding hands, giving gifts, those sweet little surprises…”

I shook my head. “That’s not love. That’s just what people do when they think they’re in love. Actions. Affection. Desire. But that’s not love itself.”

She stared at me, half-annoyed, half-curious. “Then what is it?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. Everyone thinks they understand, but no one really does. Love is just a word we use. An emotion we try to describe. But its true definition?” I shrugged. “It doesn’t exist.”

I leaned back, staring at the flicker of the TV. “And anyway… no one even knows why we say we ‘fall’ in love. Why do we fall at all? Why not rise into it? Maybe that’s the point — maybe love is just something we claim, without really knowing what it is. Maybe it’s something we should feel, not explain. Maybe that’s the point of it.”

She blinked, then let out a shaky laugh. “Oh… that’s deep. I never thought of it like that.”

The room fell quiet. The film played on, credits rolling to no applause. Her tears had dried, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

It was deep, what I said. I wasn’t sure where it came from, but I couldn’t help wondering if it was true. Or maybe I was just too inexperienced to know better. Maybe there is a meaning, an explanation — but if there is, I have yet to understand it, or experience it for myself.

© 2025 Louise C Kay. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission.