I won't tell you how to love.

 I won't tell you how to love.

I'll tell you how I don't love anymore.

I don't love waiting for a response as if it were proof.

I don't love looking at the clock lest you be late in feeling what I feel.

I don't love keeping score: who said "I love you" first, who stayed the longest, who cried the deepest.

I don't love as a transaction: I give you tenderness, you give me attention.

I don't love as a bargain: if you change, I change too.

I don't love as a court: with witnesses, accusations, evidence and convictions.

I don't love out of fear of losing you.

I don't love out of lack, to fill gaps that only I know where they hurt.

I don't love to prove to anyone (neither you nor me) that I'm worth it.

I don't love with conditions.

I don't love by saying "if you love me, I will...".

I don't love by asking for proof of love, because whoever asks for proof has already lost the point.

I don't love because it's the way it should be.

I don't love because I'm afraid of loneliness.

I don't love because everyone loves.

I don't love because I read in a poem what love is like.

And now that I've told you all this,

I'll find you doing exactly the opposite.

You'll find me doing the opposite too.

And I won't say it's wrong.

I'll say: "This is also a path."

I'll say: "Next time, maybe differently."

I'll say: "Welcome to the experiment. Here we don't give answers, here we live them."

As you said:

to find fellow passengers who are still wondering.

Not teachers. Not therapists.

People who also got a little lost, to find their own map.

And you know what?

Maybe love is nothing we say.

Maybe it's the moment we say "I don't know" and that's enough.

Are you still here?

Great.

This is a start.