The Girl

He loved her. There was never a moment where he wasn’t absolutely sure of that. In his years of living, he had never appreciated something as much as he appreciated her existence and qualities. Every second he was with her, he loved her, and every second he was away from her, he grew envious of the past and future versions of himself that was with her. He loved her more than anything should love anything. It was a dangerous love; one that completely engulfed him into a lifestyle of permanent euphoria. When inexplicable feelings corrupted him, they shattered the feelings that took place in the past, and when they left, then no feelings ever touched the ones that used to be there, but that was their love, one that could only be described by taking the happiest moments of a favorite dream, and waking up with the realization all of it was real. It was blissful, charismatic, full, and everything a person should feel at least once in their lifetime.

Her. The strangest thing occurs after feelings like that; simple words lose their meaning and take on new ones. Never will he read that word, “her” and think of some strange fictional girl or an example of a pronoun, rather, with the simple mental pronunciation of that word, he sees her face, and only hers. She was something, if you can believe it. She made him believe that God existed, at least at one time he did. If God created the world in 7 days, he spent 6 on her, saving one last day for the rest of us. After 6 long days of work, he smiled and said she would be exactly perfect for a lucky fool like him. He was silly, thinking that he would create one incredible thing just for the sole enjoyment of a single man. He was naive, because her grace extended far beyond that; the whole world felt her effect; she was an international healer, a deliberate gift to a broken world.

Once they were together, he thought that would be it. He thought that things would stay; he found her and she found him, that was that and they were them, what more could there be? He was wrong for two reasons: one, time changes all things. With time, they would grow old and we would never be the same as they were the day before. Time required their love to grow and shift to whatever mold needed filling. Love is not in a solid state nor is it gaseous, it is a liquid, splitting and transforming into whatever shape it needs to in order to keep everything as it should be. He couldn’t expect a solid rock to pass through such complex shapes as time went on, nor could he expect their love to stay the same as it passes through time, it requires change and evolution. Two, she couldn’t be contained. As precious as she was to him, she would never be happy if there wasn’t progress. One of her greatest features was her self-awareness; she knew that, like all things, she must change and adapt to whatever form she could in order to truly live. She was a firework, ferocious, graceful, and beautiful in all the things she did. At first, he pictured the years going by as the two of them remaining young and endearing to each other, but he couldn’t, and shouldn’t have, expected things to remain the same, because as he was out and becoming his own man, she would do the same, and grow into something special.
That’s what love should be, the dangerous feeling of being completely vulnerable but living in ecstasy simultaneously. He had that for a short period of his life, and he would never be the same. His first love was oxymoronic. Through all the lonely days of pondering and self-reflection, He realized just how contradicting it was, contradicting because his first love, would always be his last. Always.


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