And I thought it would stay the same always, between us. Me wanting him, and the still distance. It was always for me the question of living up to him. Living up to what he would expect. The anger at his neglect, the long conversations, the never had dates, the hope that I fit in with those that are his. Always the fear that I am not grown up enough or intriguing enough. But somehow there was never jealousy. He mentioned once how he expects a woman to twitch. I always knew if he smiled about it, I wouldn’t dream of twitching.
But now that it’s time to let him go, maybe I am twitching. I don’t know if it’s ok or if it is supposed to be. But maybe, just maybe this is how it’s meant to be. I always loved Neruda, he talks about unrequited love being more beautiful somewhere. There is still that book he owes me. He is the whole concept of romance in my head. Always was. Everything outside what I could reach. I wanted to be mysterious, mature, happy and exciting. I have always said that women are different with men they want to be attractive to and a lot of those who know me say I never am. Somehow, I was always different with him, around him. I wanted to be better. I learnt long ago its a part of adoring someone.
I remember all the conversations, every single one. About the women he loved, and the women he found attractive and even those he did not care about. About the writers that inspired him, the minds that excited him. But there was always the one clause, never uncovering it. I am superstitious, those I love most I keep at the most distance. Isn’t it often said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. But distance also assures me that I will keep him closer. It’s easier always. Always. He was always the pinnacle of my concept of romance. What pains you is the loss of what you might have deserved. The loss of what you never deserved deserts your capacity to think, it strips you of the hope that someday you will bridge those waters. And that is why I always kept the distance. It is easy to discuss life and love but how do you talk about something you understand but don’t comprehend.
I remember he said once, maybe some other time and in some other space we would have been different. It was always extreme emotions with him. Always will be. Extreme anger, extreme love and then somehow thinking he was indifferent to it all. And now its like a funny realisation of the truth that he really was more than an arms stretch away even when I could feel his breath on my cheeks.
You are the extreme of my romance, the being of the chasm between simple love and the conspiracy that romance is. Always were always will be. And I hope someday I can explain better.