on falling in love, on not knowing what love is, on something that is maybe not love at all

Loving people you've never met is like anticipating the next four years without thinking about the next four seconds, which, in all honesty, I do all the time. Loving someone you've never met makes no sense. Do you know how it feels to love someone about whom you know nothing? To fall in love with a stranger, a stranger, except you do know the minutest facts about them, the facts that they choose to share, the feelings they are feeling on a regular basis, their thought processes. But with the deletion of the blog comes the deletion of the human. No longer privy to thoughts that were once readily shared with the internet, thoughts that could never be presented in person, thoughts that are so beautiful and bare and stripped of pretension, stripped of insecurity. There is purity in reading about the sadness, the loneliness, the mundane. Our human parts are made up not of the extraordinary, but the daily experiences, the quiet moments when we don't realize what we are thinking, when the mind is running without meta-analysis, the mind running faster than it cares to keep up with itself, but still so slowly, still in monotony, still only interesting to those who truly love you, those who truly care, or those who care to be voyeurs; though, aren't we all voyeurs? Aren't we all interested in the thoughts of those who are not ourselves? Don't you want to know what someone who is not you is thinking in a situation in which you have also been? Don't you want to know what someone who is not you is thinking in a situation in which you have never been? The human mind and all its complexity, laid bare for the reading, bare for the taking, bare for the breathing. This is how I came to know you. This is how I came to love you. This is how I do not know you anymore.