I am infatuated like I'm in highschool, staring dreamily at the object of my desire. I wander off in bouts of lengthy daydreaming, remembering stories of pure fiction with me and my crush in it. It's intoxicating and most of the time, I feel heady, drunk with my own passion, swayed by my own desires.
A friend spoke truth when she said that love begins with a decision, a act of the logical mind to allow one to feel something for another person. From there, the flood gates are opened. You will have to wrestle with the raging emotions in order to regain a semblance of order, to get a foothold and take stock and remember who you were before all the disaster.
I must admit that I was smitten when I got a first look but I let it pass and months later, I got a second look, and a third, and well, shit. I kept looking. Then, one day, I decided to let myself feel, the same way I felt before. The feeling I swore I would not allow myself to feel again. I took a chance. I made an effort. I spoke first and we talked.
At first, it was small talk but later we were sharing personal things. A little superficial of course: brands of clothes, toiletries and the like. Later came the safe family stories then the embarrassing personal stories. Still later some secrets. I wonder still, why I felt I could share those things that day but I guess I kind of figured it was not a big deal. At least, not when I am sharing it with this person, the one I decided I would like.
Well, we shared stuff. Openly speaking of things I would prefer to tell my confessor.
It was through this sharing that I realized that we were traveling on the same path but are on different parts. Several miles apart with only our talking as the means of connection. It would be next to impossible for us to walk together. Perhaps in another quantum universe, we are together, happy, content. Here, though, we're happy and content in our separate ways and I am made less so with my foolish decision to feel something.
So I decide every night to move on tomorrow but I cannot. I wake up convince I have moved on but I have not. I look forward to Fridays when we could meet and hate every other day especially the weekends since we cannot talk. At least I don't have any excuse to send a message but I make things up and I guess out of courtesy I get a reply.
I know I should not assume anything of the times I got words of encouragement when I complained about work. Kindness is more common than we are led to believe. I know that even though that time, when I was the only one who needed to work late, we both stayed online and chatted until I got offline. I really felt down that time and I know that it was a sign of friendship.
What am I saying? Nothing. Just rambling really. I just needed to get this one out.
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