What is love?: On Aristotle Mendoza, my most beloved fictional character.

 TW: Mentions of Suicide, Death, etc.

CW: Spoilers for both parts of Aristotle and Dante by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

"You are a beautiful boy."

-Aristotle Mendoza, to himself

There's something so insanely pristine about the love Aristotle felt for Dante. So pure and unfiltered, yet so soft and hidden. Ari is a dangerously complex character, and it's challenging to think of him as just a character and not a real human being. The way he feels for everyone in his lifeー his father, mother, siblings, Gina and Susie, Sam and Mrs. Quintana, and Dante, most of allー is like he's building a dam to hold back the weight of an entire ocean.

I once read this in a fanfic: "The love pours out of Yunho like a continuous flood, and Minhyuk has never been so grateful to drown." I think it's similar for Ari. However, instead of love, there are just feelings. No matter how many dams he builds, his feelings keep rushing out of him from the minuscule holes in the walls created by the weight of the love he feels. Boys tend to love like that. Like uncontrollable hurricanes. That's why we hear so much about things going wrong between anyone and a man because men themselves don't know how to reign this hurricane and rule it like they were meant to. 

I can really understand what it's like to be filled to the brim with love to give but have no idea how to do it. If you couldn't already tell, I tend to relate to Ari a lot; he means a ton to me. 

For those who haven't read either of the books, Aristotle Mendoza is a young Mexican-American boy going through the trials and tribulations of being a gay Latin teenager in 1980s and 1990s America. His father is a veteran of the Vietnam War, his mother is a teacher, his older brother is in prison for murdering a transgender prostitute, and his older sisters are married. Needless to say, he has a very troubled mind.

On the surface, you wouldn't see any resounding similarities between me and Ari. He's masculine, can win most fights with ease, is an asshole to anybody and everybody, and spends most of his time making sure that he has no friends. But, he's in love with a boy, loves his family, and hates himself.

The entirety of the first book focuses on his journey of unlearning his hatred for himself.

I see so much of myself in him. I don't even know how to explain it. I have a separate folder in my notes app for all the quotes I love from the second book. I'm putting some of them in this article.

"As I felt the beating of Dante's heart against the palm of my hand, I wished I could somehow reach into my chest and rip out my own heart and show Dante everything that it held."

"You're the rain and you're the desert and you're the eraser that's making the word 'loneliness' disappear."

"You couldn't cross out desire when it lived in your body."

"I think I've been like this kitten, born with its eyes closed, walking around meowing because I couldn't see where I was going. But, Dante, guess what? The kitten has fucking opened his eyes. I can see, Dante, I can see."

"He was the map of the world and everything that mattered."

Ari is so broken, but the cracks in his heart bleed out seas and rivers of love. The love he felt ended up filling in the cracks. It took him two books, but Ari figured out the biggest secret of the universe. He figured out what the love in his heart was.

I have a heavy and very personal question to ask the reader. Tell yourself the answer, if you have one, not me. (Though you are welcome to share your thoughts with me as well)

If you ever would, what definition would you give to the word 'love?' 
I've been writing answers to this question for as long as I can remember, yet I feel that I'm nowhere near close to the real answer. Don't get me wrong, this quest of mine to define 'love' isn't so much as attaching explanatory words to the feeling, as it is wanting to understand the feeling itself.
On several occasions, I find myself looking into nothingness and wondering about what exactly love is. Humans are a curious race by nature, we strive to understand things we don't. That's love for me. I may not understand it, but I feel it. And because I feel it, I want to understand it.

Dear reader, what is love? And what does it mean to you?

I am sharing one of my answers(I have too many) with the reader. I hope you find it enjoayable.

-

my heart keeps asking me a question i do not have any answer for,

a question so bare and crude, so unhinged and rough, it leaves me confused and anxious

it asks me, what use am i to the world, if i can't even understand the love i feel?

i believed what connected you and i was love, and apparently it's not, where does that leave us?

the bright of the stadium lights blind me, but not nearly as much as my self-contempt does

and the love i feel leaves me broken and barren in ways even my hate couldn't,

the feeling of love always destroys me inside and out, but feel it i must

my suffering hasn't ever been, is not, and will never be just.

what is love and what is the right way to love, are stupid questions

but they blacken my heart still, leave it dark and unruly, baring fangs, hidden behind shut doors

my love is nothing if not animalistic in nature, each direction desolate and vicious

yet i keep exploring endlessly, hoping to find what my heart yearns for

बगीचे की हरियाली में अपना दिल खो के बैठ रखा हूं मै

 (I've lost my heart in the greenery of gardens.)

खुद को खुशी मिली नही तो खुदकुशी के द्वार आ गिर पढ़ा हूं मै | 

(I've reached the doors of suicide because of unhappiness)

अरे देख तो पगले प्यार एक दरिया है जो मुझे समझ नही आता 

(Alas, listen, you imbecile, love is a river I fail to understand.)

तेरे इश्क का मोहताज हूं मै

(I am needy of your love.)

क्या कुछ नही कर जाऊंगा, तेरे प्यार की ऐसी मिसाल हूं मै |

(I will do anything and everything for you, I will set such a precedent of your love.)

Love,

Kev