I’ve had a lot of almosts in my life. Some girls have had lots of boyfriends, some have had lots of sexual partners, friends with benefits, but me? I just had many almosts. Almost boyfriends, almost crushes, and even almost soulmates. And right now, I am very, very, weary of all the almosts.
Right now, I already know how it all begins. For most of the almosts, what starts it was eye contact. Not the kind that lasts for minutes, but those short, intimate eye contacts. The kind that are silent and subtle and yet, you know somewhere far away thunder stroke, stars fell, and planets aligned just so this precise moment can happen, so you can look into this person’s eyes and recognize all their worth. For some of the others, it was a struck of luck. Coincidence, serendipity, whatever you call it.
But the best kind of almost is the kind that leaves you wondering about the person’s soul and longing to embrace the hollows and tangles of his mind. An almost as delicate as long midnight walks and tranquil rooftops, an almost with dents here and there that you don’t mind familiarizing with.
Right now, I already know how it all feels. The decent flirting, the never ending tug of war, I know what triggers every highs and low. And guess what? I have never tried to stop it. I should have, right? Considering the amount of almosts I’ve experienced, it’s only right that I should try and go all the way. But every time I find someone and we start an almost-to-be, I know exactly how it’s all going to pan out.
We will find common ground and talk about ourselves until we run out of facts about our delightful lives. He will invest too much and too soon in our relationship while I spend every minute doubting his intentions and, of course, my own feelings. I can read them like a book, and I treat them as a character while I write the plot, which, as I’ve come to realized, is usually set against them.
An as always, I already know how it’s going to end. I will start avoiding interactions with you, especially those that involve face-to-face encounters. I will start convincing myself that you are full of faults I will not be able to bear in the long run. I will find excuses to rid myself off of you. I will find excuses to make a quick exit. I will cut off all means of communication I have with you and leave you wondering where you went wrong.
I will move on from my thoughts of you, and I will accept the fact that you are just another almost I had to experience, another person I had to cross paths with. I will live with the thought that you too, like all the other almosts, had changed me somehow. And yet, I will start to forget you. On top of all that, I will start to forget how it all felt. I will start over, and I will expect you to do the same.
But I’d like to think that you are the one stroke of luck, the one almost, that I will never have to run away from. Because right now, I want to fit into the hollows of your past and belong in the molds of your future. I want to experience your ever-present soul; I want to understand your big heart behind your sarcastic remarks and your indifferent manners. You are a book I would not mind reading over and over again until I can recite every punch line and pivotal moment from memory. I have traced out our differences and for the first time, I am not afraid of them.
I am not afraid of you.
I am not afraid of your feelings,
Or mine, for that matter.
Right now, I already know how it all feels to not run away.
Not this time, not from you.
I am not afraid. Even if you’re another almost.