'When I love someone, I want only good things to happen to him. When I hate someone, I wish bad things on him. And in the recent months, you've been tormenting Bernard and us as well. What does that have to do with love? Nothing.'
Now let us imagine the living room as a stage: to the far right there is a fireplace; opposite, a bookcase on the edge of the stage. In the background, the centre of the stage is taken up by a couch, a coffee table and two armchairs. Paul is standing in the middle of the room, Laura is by the fireplace keeping her eyes fixed upon Agnes, who is standing only a few steps away. Laura's swollen eyes are accusing her sister of cruelty, insensitivity and cold-heartedness. While Agnes is speaking, Laura kept retreating backwards to the middle of the room towards Paul, as if trying to express by this movement, her astonished alarm at her sister's unfair attack.
When she came within a step or two of Paul, she stopped and repeated: 'You don't know what love is about.'
Agnes stepped forwards and took up her sister's former position at the fireplace. She said: 'I understand love perfectly well. In love the most important thing is the other person, the one we love. That's what it's all about, and nothing else. And I ask myself: what does love mean to a person who is capable of seeing nothing but herself. In other words, what does love mean to an absolutely egocentric woman.'
'To ask what love means makes no sense, my dear sister,' said Laura. 'Love is something you've either experienced or you haven't. Love is love, that's all you can say about it. It's a pair of wings beating in my heart and driving me to do things that seem unwise to you. And that's precisely what you've never experienced. You said I was incapable of seeing anybody but myself. But I see you, and I see right through you. When you kept assuring me of your love during these last few weeks, I knew perfectly well that coming out of your mouth that word has no meaning. It was just a trick. An argument to mollify me. To keep me from disturbing your tranquility. I know you, sister, you've been living your whole life on the other side of love.
Immortality by Milan Kundera
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There comes a point in time in every relationship, when the words 'I love you', get stuck in my throat.
I never thought it would happen in this one. I remember telling my sister that with Mike, for the very first time, I know with all certainty that I love someone. Love as a feeling had never felt more concrete. Fast forward 5 weeks, and here I am. Back in the same place of confusion... feeling like a fraud when I say the words 'I love you'.
Love constantly evolves outside all of my expectations and imaginings. I cannot put on my finger on it, and when I cannot, I choke.
