And there it is. When you are in love, you'll simply know. As if some kind of fairy sprinkles dust over your heartstrings, and you begin to sing in a meadow filled with birds and squirrels. There's a reason this trope reappeared in 500 Days of Summer the morning after Joseph Gordon-Levitt sleeps with his dream girl. Because when you are on the precipice between love and lust. Infatuation and desire. It feels, well, like something out of a Disney cartoon. It's pure elation.
What is love? Besides a pure, unadulterated '90s jam by the incomparable Haddaway. I'm going to attempt to describe it through the ability of not being blinded by it. By not being surrounded by it, but through its devastating absence.
It's going through the motions with a vibrancy that illuminates the smallest moment. It's the slightest touch that reverberates through every cell in your body. Like goosebumps that last for weeks. It kills the numbness. The stifling numbness you feel from the moment you wake up until the moment you stumble into bed. It's not a necessity for life. But it's a necessity to live.
To see the world from a new angle. To challenge your perspective so you can progress. So you can live anywhere but in the immediate. It inspires and propels you. Endows you vitality. It strengthens your will. It awakens your senses like a drug you can't seem to come down from.
Love won't conquer all. It doesn't mean never having to say your sorry. It isn't something you can wish for or beg for or plead for. It simply opens your eyes to the rest of your life. And it feels amazing.
So as Mary Eloise watches Sleeping Beauty for the seventh time this week, she turns to her father and asks, "How will I know when I'm in love, Poppa?" He will smile down at his daughter, his calloused fingers mixing tenderly with his steely beard, "When the moments without that person no longer produce sound."
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