There was a time when I watched a drama where the male protagonist confessed his love to the female protagonist using the phrase, “You’re on my mind,” and it felt refreshing. Perhaps because human emotions are universal, that line immediately caused a sensation and spawned many parodies.
Phrases like “I like you” or “I love you” might feel a bit too much for those who are just beginning to explore love. They might provoke reactions like, “How well do you even know me?” or “You don’t know the real me.” If someone confesses their love without really knowing you, it might make you wonder if they’re just blinded by desire.
But hearing “You’re on my mind” from someone you’re interested in feels just right—it’s light, fluttery, and not overwhelming. It’s like saying, “I don’t know you well, and I don’t even fully understand why, but you keep popping up in my thoughts, and my heart keeps leaning toward you.”
“You’re on my mind,” or “I care for you,” is, in my opinion, one of the best expressions that captures the essence of love. It’s not about intense desire or possessiveness, nor is it about cheap pity. It’s just that someone keeps occupying your thoughts. Isn’t that what love is? Like when you’re in elementary school, and you keep glancing at someone during class, or the first thing you think of when you wake up is seeing them at school. Even if it’s not the entirety of love, it’s at least the beginning. When someone bullies or teases them, you feel a surge of anger, and when they run on sports day, you worry they might fall, while everyone else fades into the background.
But as we grow older, we start to think differently and lose touch with what love truly is. We forget the love we knew as children. Once “realistic” desires take root—like wanting to undress someone, show them off, or gain something from them—we end up having to relearn the meaning of love through decades of marriage, as if it were a difficult lesson. The subtle “feeling of being concerned” for others is often overshadowed by the more overt desires and comparisons. It’s like a delicate floral scent that is completely masked by a stronger artificial perfume.
From this perspective, we can understand love more concretely. What is love between a man and a woman? What is familial love? What is the love of a friend? What does it mean to love your neighbor? Or even what it means for God to love humans and humans to love God? No matter how many flowery words you use or how many expensive gifts you give, if there isn’t that feeling of “you just keep coming to mind, even when you’re doing nothing,” then it’s not love. The person who gives me the sweetest things might not be the one who loves me the most. Real love is when someone cares for me even when I’ve done nothing to deserve it.
Recently, news announced that vaccinations for children over five years old have been approved (with those under five to follow). A comment from a mother under the news article stuck with me. She wrote, “I almost died after my second dose, so how can I let my child get vaccinated? I’ll never let my child get it. Even if I have to starve, I’ll resist to the end.”
I wondered, why did this mother voluntarily get vaccinated twice when someone else’s twenty-year-old daughter was found dead alone in her apartment, or when a seventeen-year-old boy collapsed and died suddenly? And why is she only now, when it’s her child’s turn, making such a fuss? It made me feel a deep sadness, as if love has disappeared from this world.
If she had loved her neighbor, she would have cared about other people’s children. If she had loved her country, she would have cared about her fellow citizens. Or maybe she did care a little, but she pushed those feelings aside because “that’s just how society works.” Now that the needle is pointed at her own child, she’s ready to abandon all social norms and resist unconditionally. I can’t sympathize with her—she just seems like someone in need of reflection.
Globally, there’s a trend of people seeking unvaccinated individuals as romantic or marriage partners. Some even lie about being unvaccinated despite having gotten the shot. This phenomenon seems to go beyond just wanting “pure blood.” Perhaps, unconsciously, people are looking for someone who knows how to care for others—someone who knows how to love.
There are those who meticulously care for their own bodies and their family’s, yet when someone else suffers from acute leukemia, sudden death, or severe side effects after vaccination, they dismiss it with, “Any medication can be toxic to a small number of people with specific conditions.” Or those who ignore the risks until they experience side effects themselves and only then start to resist. Or those who remain smug because they and their loved ones are fine. Do these people realize they are “love-disabled,” incapable of truly loving others? It’s tragic to become someone who can only say, “I want you,” instead of “You’re on my mind.”
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