We Met On An Even Day

man and woman sitting on rock during daytime
Cody Black / Unsplash

Life hardly ever gives me second chances, so I thought this was a treat. A sprinkle of sugar in the sour lemonade life has forced me to make.

My phone lights up and I see your name. I don’t know how to feel. I’m happy but nervous. I’m optimistic but in complete disbelief. Is this really happening or am I imagining you like I always do?

This mixture of feelings makes me feel nauseous, like when you combine two ice cream flavors that don’t really go together. I fight to keep my mind clear. I struggle to focus my thoughts on anything else but you and I fail. I can’t help but think that perhaps you’re reaching out to tell me that you never stopped thinking about me. I fantasize about how you’d grab my face and look into my boring brown eyes with your icy-blue ones and whisper that this time you’re here to stay.

Our conversation is uncomfortable. It’s dry, uninteresting. It’s dialectic at best. Is it us, or are the satellites surrounding us interfering? Maybe the messages are starting one way on your end and arriving edited on mine. Maybe they’re sifting all the romance out of our exchange to protect us. A world with you and I together would be too perfect. The authorities cannot allow it. It would be unfair to all the other lovers out there.

I know what the problem is. We met on an even day. Maybe we’re different people on even days. Maybe odd days misalign our personalities and we simply cannot mesh. You take hours to respond to quotidian, routine questions. I take hours to position words and commas properly, so as to impress you. Even if just for a few seconds. Each of my responses feels like a fail, but as always, you humor me. Your kindness is indestructible. You’re a knight looking to save, or in this case, you’re a knight making sure this idiot of a damsel doesn’t realize that she’s a complete fool.

I’m so dull, so gray. You’re so polychromatic, iridescent. You didn’t need me to bring you my gloom and not making an effort to see each other was probably for the best. You’re back in my city, but your coordinates are unknown to me. I don’t know where you are anymore. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Fernanda is a native New Yorker who loves tea, fuzzy socks and stories

Keep up with Fernanda on Instagram

More From Thought Catalog