No. I’m no Buttercup, by any means. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a cute movie. You were the first person to convince me to watch it. Before then, no one made the right comparison I guess, or described it proper. You on the other hand, compared it to my most recent fascination at the time, “Natural Born Killers”. That you understood what it meant to me in that instant stopped me cold. I didn’t dare look at you, because you would have seen right through me. You might have even felt the precise chord you’d struck the moment the connection was made.
And then the day blurs back into my memory, your Ghost haunts me with his adorable, doppleganger-esque visage, and I am reminded, as always, of what you have become.
How “Emo”, how tragically “Gothic”, how strange and unnatural, and somehow still so awfully cliche.
You are my “Curse”, though I long for that taunting typo. From the moment I met you I knew you were something. Funny, the one who introduced me to you, who spoke of you before I realized you were that same person, had an echo, like a foreshadowing, where I could swear some moment in my past-life had crossed nearly identically and triggered a memory, or the feeling of one.
You?
I didn’t even see your face.
If I cared about how much you believed me, I wouldn’t be writing this as I am.
But I heard noise, made the connection that you were the anonymous roommate I’d yet to have met, and expected a cordial few seconds in greeting. In my slow, naively expectant function you shot passed me like lightening, still gripping my hand and delivering a perfect, heart-melting, I-actually-felt-myself-falling, handshake.
And then you were gone. A flash of reddish brown mane blinking out of the doorway and our Mutual Friend, seething as I’m sure he was at my barely hidden bewilderment. It wasn’t how he wanted it to go. He wanted me to be broken down, crawling and begging. Not lovestruck and fascinated by his arch rival, hoping for some archaic magic to lead her to where she was meant to be; near someone so…alive.
You wanted me to be your equal, but then disrespected every stance I took.
Sort of.
I’m eternally conflicted about you.
I did fall in love that day.
You, Druid, are the only person in the world, in my life, possibly lives, that I can say I have loved Literally since the day that I met you. Cliche as fuck, but I’m passed the denial stages and have accepted this horrible tragedy.
I tried to be normal about it.
I tried to dismiss it like a crush and just play off my affections and they still got in the way.
With how everything played out with that MF, I shouldn’t have been surprised. There was a magic in the moments that surrounded you, an allure well beyond the vagueness of ‘mystery’. It was as if a symphony were playing our lives, and something about your chaos harmonized so well will my paralyzed fear at having been put in the predicament I was in, I felt like a violin, it’s player’s bow grazing hazily on low chords.
There was so much.
And you, You were never mine.
Goodnight..
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