They thought that was love.

Everyone saw two people holding hands, except me. I saw a young man with a wide grin who thought himself ready to carry the weight of the world over his shoulders. Next to him, I saw a beautiful girl who couldn´t wait to be someone´s miss´s. But they weren´t actually holding hands, they weren´t reaching out. Between them there was a distance, a rupture. They couldn´t understand that the other one was a whole world by himself, and that ignorance kept them slightly, but crucially, apart.

Standard questions were asked as to make sure not that they knew what they were doing, but that they would follow the path so many others took. Everything was so beautiful, and it felt so right. “Yes” they answered, as a boy beaming with pride when he knows the answer in an exam, and the priest nodded like a teacher who feels he taught his students well. And of course, they thought that was love. Nobody asked him which movie could make her cry the most, or when was the last time she had dreamt with him. They didn´t care to know if he would take her in his arms by surprise and jump into the pool with their clothes on for her birthday; or if she would play with his hair while he slept, whispering in his year how much she liked him. No, nobody thought that mattered. They only knew they were both innocent and would never hurt anyone. They would use them as rag dolls and strike them together to make sparks out of each other, to keep these fires burning, to keep this whole charade running and the gears of this machine fed with the smoke that rose from their minds and bodies toasting from the friction. They didn´t have to be in love for that.

I felt the panic crept slowly through my body as I realized how many times had this happened before, and looked around in panic as if expecting to find a flaw to my argument among these people, inside these walls. But all I saw were faces urging them to keep on walking forward, to keep this snowball moving fearing it might fall apart if it stopped for a second to think why is it rolling . I wanted to stand up and tell them that they didn´t know what they were doing, to ask shouting how was everyone okay with this. But I didn´t dare, I knew they wouldn´t understand, I knew they would treat me as a madman. Between the flowers, the “You are doing the right thing, son” or the “I´m proud of you” engraved in their heads, of course this felt as the right thing to do.

But later, when the balloons are all bouncing half empty on the floor, and the champagne bottles have longed been popped, and they turned around and realize it´s only them and a janitor cleaning the floor for the next couple waiting by the door; when they went back to their brand new house, and opened all of their presents smiling to each other at each new surprise and every “Oh, how thoughtful of his part”, when the wrappings of the gifts had been torn apart leaving everything exposed, and when time went by and their own wrappings started to fall off like they always do, and they were left standing face to face with their ribcages wide open without anything else to distract them from one another… well. I wonder if they will be able to hold hands then.