Do we fall in love with a person or do we fall in love with the idea of a person? We can never ever really get inside someone else’s head, experience the world as they do and through their eyes, so we are surely only ever as much in love with who we think that they are as we ever could be in love with who they really are.
What is it for someone to “really” be a person anyway? What is that essence or core we all beat ourselves up about for so much of our lives, that aspirational star around which our whole being rotates and by whose gravitational influence we define all sense, meaning and intelligibility in the world? That essence and reality at your core and center is as unknowable as that in any person must always remain to you, that vacuum of uncertainty beyond you is identical to that within you, it is actually the self-same logical impossibility and asymptotic aspiration towards disentangling a paradox of self-knowledge. This is why the shallow superficialities of commercial culture can never make us, as they implicitly claim, whole and complete – wholeness and completeness do not actually exist; the unity of the world or of self can only manifest as an absence.
All wisdom is hollow and self is emptiness but this is not a bug, it is a feature – it is a difficult point to acknowledge because in so doing, you must give up yourself and this hints at an intuition of the selfless essence that is authentic love. As for me, I think I am in love with a simple idea of being in love and in this life that may be about as good as it ever gets. We are all in orbit around the vacuum of our own emptiness and if there is one thing we might share in this world, and around which we might rally or share a few brief moments in the transient warmth of each other’s lives and personalities, it is this fact.