How much do you love me?





“How much do you love me?” she often used to ask me.

 

The question always stumped me, even more than “Am I looking fat in this dress?” or “What shall I cook for dinner?”

 

I never got the right answers to those questions either. But for every wrong answer I gave her for those questions, I walked a step closer to the right answer.

 




I sometimes even managed to deflect the dangerous questions towards a romantic ambience. And in that moment of bliss, she would look in me the eyes and ask me again. “How much do you love me?”

 

As usual, I had nothing to say. What could have I said when I myself had no idea? I could have said that I love you as much as there are stars out there. But I was afraid of the fact that one day scientists would accurately count the number of stars and my love would diminish in value.

 

Hence, I would stay blank thinking about the extent of my love for her. I could never give her a decent answer. I could never figure out how much I loved her.

 

Now that she has left me, I realise I was right. I never knew how much I loved her and I never will. Of all the quantifiable things in the world, love is not one of them. Either you love someone or you don’t. There is no middle ground.

 

You can’t love someone half-heartedly. You just can’t. Love is that ineffable feeling only idiots can express. True lovers cherish it, even if their loved ones have left them.


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