why is the measure of love loss?

a love letter to desire, the most integral function of life

“Why is the measure of love loss?” is the first sentence of my favourite book, Written on The Body by Jeanette Winterson. After reading the first page of this novel, I knew it would change my life forever.

Written On The Body, in my opinion, is mankind’s love letter, which perfectly describes what it means to be passionately desired. To be known intimately and intricately. Every word in this book is written and laced with desire, passion and intense yearning.

It’s the most beautiful depiction of love that I’ve ever read, and it’s a deep sensual worship of the human body. The book stings as much as it emotionally touches and highlights how desire will never be wasted, no matter how much it destroys us.

Written On The Body by Jeanette Winterson

Desire burns within our every being; it ignites a flame in the centre of our hearts. When we see the person/object of our desire, it forces us to stop. We become transfixed, not only on the object of our desire but also on the knowledge that our desire could be met. We can become one with our lovers and learn to know them intimately.

Desire has to be one of my favourite emotions to exist. Its complexity and honesty excite me yet terrify me at the same time.

We all know that feeling when you're talking to someone new: the fluttering, the hesitation, the long glances, the butterflies in your stomach, the anticipation building as you clutch your phone tightly, anxiously awaiting their reply. The moment they reply to your message, the world stands still. Suddenly, it's not gravity keeping you grounded; it's them.

Desire fills the everlasting void in our hearts. The concept of desire is very interesting, something I always try to bring up in conversations with friends.

The Cambridge Dictionary definition of desire is “A strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen.”

The Cambridge Dictionary also offers other definitions to the word ‘desire’, one of which is “To have a strong sexual attraction to someone.”

Desire is commonly associated with sex and love. And rightfully so. I think that to desire someone is also the urge and need to be with them and connect with them on a sexual level.

But, as much as sexual desire is engraved in our every being, desire as a whole means a little more than that to me, and I would like to explore the desire for what it is: an integral function in all aspects of life.

Desire is embedded into every thought and every decision that we make. The desire to be financially stable. The desire to heal from trauma. The desire to move out of your parents’ house.

The desire to have a strong circle of friends. The desire to get a new job. The desire to be in a relationship. The desire to be seen by your siblings. The desire to be known. The desire to be wanted.

All of these things, these desires, are synonymous with freedom and hope. There is a constant need to achieve something more than this simple human experience. Desire gives us this. It allows us to fantasise and travel to different worlds to see all the other possibilities of life.

Desire reminds us to fantasise and dream like a child, and that’s why desire can be so dangerous. Life has a cunning way of hurting us and isolating us from the things we want.

That’s why when someone plays hard to get, or when we crave something that feels just out of reach, our brains fall under a kind of spell. The desire intensifies. But why does this happen? Because we’re wired to want what we can’t have.

Jacques Lacan, a French psychoanalyst whose work I have been studying, had many thoughts on desire. According to Lacan, desire is not just a simple biological need or a pursuit of an object, but rather a complicated concept.

While studying his work, I became more fascinated by his theory on desire and more confused about psychoanalysis.

The desire to learn more excites me. The thought of learning something new and feeling stupid intimidates me.

I desire many things in life. I desire to have a stable family someday, because I grew up around instability my entire life.

My parents, my aunties, my uncles — it’s all part of a generational cycle of trauma. And here I am, carrying the weight of pain and anger, hoping that one day, the family I build will be different.

That we’ll sit around the dinner table without arguments. I won’t have to walk on eggshells around my future husband or children.

Will this ever happen? Is my desire just a fantasy?

Lacan believes so and expresses in his work that “through fantasy, we learn how to desire.” Fantasy, the crazy stories we make in our heads, helps us cope with the hardships of life. Desire helps us as much as it emotionally seduces us.

He also stated that:

“...Desire, a function central to all human experience, is the desire for nothing nameable. And at the same time, this desire lies at the origin of every variety of animation. If being were only what it is, there wouldn’t even be room to talk about it. Being comes into existence as an exact function of this lack.” — Jacques Lacan

I desire everything and anything. Well, perhaps it’s not that simple. I desire many things, but some of them are simpler than others. Some of them are more obvious than others.

I desire a love that is all-consuming, sickening, and maddening.

A love that transcends physical touch — one that lives in the small, intimate gestures. Like someone annotating a book and folding a page that reminded them of me. I want love expressed through devotion and attention. Through someone listening as I passionately rant about rewatching Pride & Prejudice and Portrait of a Lady on Fire for the thousandth time, because those films always live at the centre of my heart.

‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ ignited the desire to write this essay, a film that lingered with me long after the credits rolled. ‘Portrait of A Lady on Fire’, the most beautiful film to ever exist, follows Marianne, an artist commissioned to create a portrait of an aristocratic woman named Héloïse.

However, Héloïse has refused many other artists in the past and refused to have her portrait taken. So, Marianne is faced with the challenge of painting Héloïse in secret. However, Héloïse quickly discovers Marianne’s scandal and surprisingly agrees to let Marianne paint her portrait. However, as Marianne paints Héloïse, they fall in love.

This film took my breath away. Every scene felt like a painting: meticulously composed and rich with emotion. The cinematography is stunning, but the quiet, aching desire between the protagonists truly left me breathless. Their yearning consumed the screen, and in turn, consumed me.

I long to have a love like Héloïse and Marianne. As I watched the film, I felt a sudden urge to cry. How does one love so much, with an intensity and a voracious appetite, knowing their love will not last?

Why is the measure of love loss?

“To love someone is firstly to confess: I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” — Billy-Ray Belcourt, A History of My Brief Body.

To everyone reading this, who has loved to the point of madness: I see you. You are one of the bravest people ever to exist, because to love and be vulnerable, to give someone your devotion, knowing that they may leave you, is a sacrifice and a choice many are unwilling to take.

It’s a pain, an ache as detrimental as a physical injury; one that will stay with us until the end of time. To love and to desire is to be human. Don’t be sad or regretful; remember.

So I encourage you today to fantasise, to love and desire anything and everything with intensity and a maddening hunger. To live is to love. To live is to desire.

Don’t ever apologise for giving your heart. Let yourself love and be loved. Let your feelings spill over, unfiltered and unapologetic. Let the longing shape you, soften you, make you brave. Because to desire, truly and deeply, is to be alive. And what a beautiful, terrifying thing it is to burn and bloom simultaneously.

Don’t all lovers feel like they’re inventing something?

“I love you, but, because inexplicably I love in you something more than you, the object petit a - I mutilate you.” — Jacques Lacan

I love you all deeply. Stay tuned for future posts on The Playground of Ideas. Feel free to stay connected with me on TikTok and Instagram .