writings of her

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


Lost in my own delusion of self-love and appreciation. All of life has been a journey and I have only reached its seventeen-year peak. There have been many experiences that have drifted and carried my mind to places I would rather not be. Something about this one is peculiar. Not peculiar like intriguing, but captivating almost. As if I am forced in by her pull and yet I’m allowing this force to take me.
I have not known her for long. During my previous love, she must have used her powers against me. As corny as that sounds, it is the only way to genuinely express how I felt the day that I knew she was there. I remember the day by date, but will not disclose this as it feels obsessive, I mean the whole process of this is obsessive but withdrawing exact dates is my way of seeming less deranged. I was with a group and her. She was not beautiful as for I have never truly seen her as such. It was something else, something so difficult to explain that my brain rots every time I try to recall my exact emotion on that day. I felt my eyes wander to this “friend’’ of mine painfully often, and it honestly confused me. Why now, why me, why her? All this spiraled in my brain and as she would mention my name in conversation I was forced to respond naturally. Did she know what I was thinking? God, I hope not. All the while I was trying to determine my current emotional status with another woman. This woman is also special to me. I had loved her for almost two years. We literally intertwined ourselves and became tunnel visioned in our delusion of love. But as love dwindled, her face grew brighter. Her voice grew louder. Her touch felt different. There was a day shed touch me and I would turn and laugh. By this day, each time her hand nears my skin, I almost can’t feel it because of how much I wish it happened every single second. My love situation continued to shatter, and I noticed myself only filling my thoughts with fantasy. As I should have been focused on repairing my mind, I was filling it with something more. Something harmful and exciting but I could not help it. The next day, I tried to hide everything within me. Though seeming as I am quite literally writing a short story on this, I am incapable of hiding anything. We went out again. This time with my partner, a group, and her. This day was awful. If awful had a positive connotation it would be the perfect word for this day. Even with the woman I had loved for years next to me, my hand was drifting away. I did not crave it. I did not want it. I shamed myself for this. Something else was catching my every bit of attention that day and I had no idea.
I decided to take a quick vacation from my partner to ease the thoughts consuming me. I found that it did help, but as one left, another joined me. I woke up and continued to get ready for a school dance. Trying to distract the only thing I wanted. On this evening I saw the beauty. I saw what my brain had been craving so much. She was the only thing I could look at. Photos upon photos of her, on my camera and forever engraved in my eyes. She absolutely pierced through me, and it made everything worse. I am the worst person on planet earth. As I am on a love vacation, I just begin work with her? This felt like a nasty affair, but she had no idea how I felt. I didn’t tell her; I didn’t want to. But the only thing I could do that night is contemplate why she was the thing that consumed me. Each time she neared me, each time she spoke, each time she even looked in my general direction, I had the worst happiness I’ve ever felt.
Shortly after, we decided to split. It was for the best; I was not happy, and she wasn’t either. I did not leave this for her, but I am guilty of enjoying how the time had aligned. I honestly cannot say that I was necessarily sad, or if I was just disappointed that another “true’’ love hadn’t gone according to plan. But with the sun calling me I could not focus on the moon.
This feeling was eating away at me. Not full course but slowly and surely. I told someone. I don’t know if speaking on how I felt spoke it into existence, but I wanted some sort of relief. Envisioning yourself loving someone that you have never loved, was taking a toll. For some reason I thought expressing this might lessen the strain. I don’t know if he ever really told her. I begged him not to, and then I begged him to, and the revolving cycle continued. You could touch the tension with your finger and watch as it seeped into you. My subconscious could have been imagining it. She just did things, said things, looked at me in ways I did not recognize. My eyes could have been deceiving me but as we will all soon learn; they were exactly where they needed to be.
Time was endless and I could feel the absolute ecosystem in my chest grow as she neared. Every class with her, every conversation. It came to a point where I had to say something, and I did. Me, her, and him. Just talking as we all do. It was nearing the time to leave, and I got a rush. A swarming sensation within me. Almost against my will, I uttered the words I had been dying to keep in. She heard them, I felt them. And for the first time in the last couple of months, everything that usually depleted me, fulfilled me. She mentioned similar emotions in return. I could have been lying to myself about this too, but I hope my ears did not deceive me. I could have been attacked by a group of killer bees, hunted, killed, left for dead, and still feel the utter joy I felt with her in that car. How can one person have such an impact on my body. My mind. My urge to live. It was like I met her for the first time, and I knew I’d see her again, just not when. We have shared many moments after this day, but here begins the truth. I am unsure of what this feeling is. Imagine being a skilled hiker, knowing the trails, but wanting to get lost, for a thrill maybe. You end up actually losing yourself, your track of time and thought, you have nowhere to go but also nowhere to be. Are you mad, scared, excited? I know I enjoy her more than most things but can my beating organs handle this. We have created this, but I do not know how to build from here. Another family dinner, Christmas, couple bickering. Maybe I’m too ahead of myself, or maybe my head is warning me. Do I need this? If this is so detrimental to me, why is it the only thing I want, the only thing I fear I’ve ever wanted so badly. The line between knowing what to do, and losing my absolute sanity is wearing thin. As I lay alone, struck with this, all I can dream is what could be, what might be, what I want to be. Then I see her, and all this sprints away from me. 50 meters, 100, 150, until it is never seen again. I write and write and yet speaking becomes impossible. Maybe I know exactly how I feel, but telling her this makes it all reality, do I enjoy the fantasy? I don’t know if there will be an ending to this. I can’t help but feel if there is, it will be terrible. Trying to connect with all the moments we share just incase this comes to be. I wonder how she feels. Thinking too deeply is the only way I think. Maybe I will finish this story after we are happily married or stabbing each other after a nasty falling out. I only know for sure, that no other woman has given me this sense of positive insanity before. She is why I’m writing this, and I might have grown absolutely mad if I hadn’t decided these 
writings of her.

 


Submitted: June 22, 2022

© Copyright 2022 z.jones. All rights reserved.

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