I don’t know if I ever stopped loving you, but my love grew weary. Hearing your name once sent electricity through my fingertips, up my spine. The last time I thought of you, my chest was heavy and my bones were weak.
When I loved you, I had a zest for life like I’d never known before. At first you inspired me and that was enough. But then just for a moment, I believed you might feel the same and that’s when it all changed. It’s funny how anything can change, once you think you have a chance at success. The purity of passion is tainted as a purpose is introduced. All of a sudden the passion itself is no longer intrinsically rewarding.
At first, I was content with appreciating you at a distance. You made me happy whenever you were around and I was content. Then I decided I wanted your attention. When I had your attention, I needed your approval. It took me so long to realize that every little thing I did ran through a filter of whether you’d approve or not. I lost my sense of self in pursuit of you.
Sometimes, you’d give your approval and my head would spin. My life became a dance, coming up with new ways to please you, battling the parts of my head that told me how futile it all was.
There was such a rush each time you reached out to me. It was always just as I began to think you’d ceased to exist you’d speak to me.
It was far-fetched for me to ever think you’d feel the same because of who you were and who I was. But I’d felt like the impossible had already happened: meeting somebody as inspiring as you. For a moment, I believed in fate. Such a delicate balance of events had lead to us meeting. It all seemed too much to be a coincidence because I was so delusional in my infatuation. I fell into the trap of my own idea of how things should be.
I’d built my life around an idea. The higher I climbed this delicate structure, the closer it came to snapping. One day it did.
You invited me to lunch. I wasn’t sure if it was a date, but I daren’t ask because I was confused as to why you’d even want to talk to me in the first place. You were so fascinating and I was so dull.
The last thing you said to me was ‘Talk later.’
I’d messed up my chance with you and I didn’t know how or why. It felt so close that I was furious with myself. It became an obsession, trying to work out where I went wrong, or why anything had happened the way it did. It took me so long to realize that I was a ripple, a transient moment in your life because you were a tidal wave in mine, leaving chaos and destruction in your wake.
My vision was distorted by proximity. Love was polarizing; I could only see the beauty. I was so blinded by desire that I couldn’t see the wreck my life had become.
Time didn’t heal my heal wounds but it lent me perspective. My vision was no longer clouded and I saw what I’d become. I’d let inspiration become obsession. Tunnel vision had hindered all progress. I was so fixated on you, I got stuck.
So now, in the scattered moments you cross my mind, I don’t feel happy or sad. I just feel weak and tired. I’m disorientated and passionless. I don’t want to go back in time anymore. I want to move forward so desperately but the ground is magnetic and I don’t know where I’m going. It feels impossible, but knowing you felt impossible. I know nothing, so who am I to say what is or isn’t possible in the first place?