I Never Loved Him
I never loved him, but I loved the wisp of a connection that drew us closer together since the night I met him. I saw the side of him that I wanted to see. It was the side of him that beckoned me closer with every word and every smirk, the glimmer in his eyes when I glanced in his direction. The air of mystery drew me in. I never knew what was real about him and what was just the image of himself that he projected at the surface for onlookers to see.
He was unique and unlike anyone I had met before. My feelings for him were different than any I had experienced; it was an incapacitating sense of desire that overcame my inhibitions and made everything but him disappear. He was always just within reach, but something felt farther away. He had the ability to put me in a daze, making me forget all the doubts and the reservations and see nothing but the intensity in his eyes; the desire driving me increasingly close.
Our dizzying attraction made me feel like I was drifting through the motions of a dream. He made me understand why they always say someone sweeps you off your feet—when we were together, it felt like my life was illuminated in a warm hue. The sweet, intoxicating scent of the cool winter air when I was around him blinded me from my surroundings. For a short, blissful moment, life slowed down and he was all I could see.
I held onto him until I knew, for my own sake, I had to let him go. When he began to drift from my periphery, he could not escape the back of my mind. I could not escape the hurricane of thoughts that cascaded my way as he withdrew further away from me. The rose-tinted glasses was removed and reality and all its doubts returned. I wanted nothing more than to turn back time, for euphoria to flood my senses again.
I slowly began to realize what I had been missing the whole time he distracted me from my life and allowed me to escape from the monotony of each passing day. I recognized everything that I had pushed aside, everything that I could observe only in retrospect because of how my mind restricted its focus on him—nothing but him. He was what my conscience needed in order to drift away from reality, from impending change. He created rhythm and stability, yet he captured my attention with newness and intrigue. I was overcome with emotion, but for the first time, the flurry of thoughts was something I had never felt before.
By Maya Page
Art by Keyre Castañeda