UNTITLED

My ideal kind of love had always been with someone I have already been friends with for a long time, someone who has always been there, celebrating with me at my best, and keeping me sane at my worst.  He was the exception.  I was a wreck back then, stressed about the amount of school work I was getting on a daily basis, frustrated with the lack of inspiration at the same time, and it was safe to say, I was falling apart.  It started with a simple mistake, but after through it all, he was the good that came out of it.  He became my inspiration from the start, and as the days passed, he slowly turned into something else.  At that time, we were now standing in the middle of the path of friendship and that of a relationship.  It was evident that there were a lot of barriers that stood our way, both of our insecurities as number one on the list.   We were so much alike, it was scary.  We had developed a bond within a week that normally took a lengthy amount of time to accomplish.  Whenever I was on the verge of giving up, his voice, singing to me would reverberate in my head, instantly seeing the brighter side of things once again.  We related to each other in so many levels.  Our thoughts seemed in sync with each other’s.  Or so it seemed.  I found out the exact opposite when one night, I decided it was just proper to tell him that someone like him, I needed greatly in my life.  He claimed that this got his “knickers in a twist,” and he was certain I was putting myself up for another disappointment.  I gave him time, and space, with the hopes that eventually, he, too, would be willing to take a chance with me, journeying together towards self-development.  Each day I didn’t hear from him became a struggle, but I constantly reminded myself why I was holding on, and the thought of that made every single thing worth it. About a week ago, I had found out that he was now happy in the arms of someone else.  As strong as my feelings are for him, I couldn’t bear myself to be selflessly happy for him, but I couldn’t blame him, either, with us, he had barely anything to hold on to.  As rubbish as this all might’ve been for him, to me, however, everything was real.  This week-long thing had just been a glimpse of what it would be like in the future, I often tell myself.  To this day, I still believe we will meet again, and when that happens at the right time, and at the right moment, our hearts will lead the way towards each other – almost like we’d never been apart.