zestful and bland

it’s not easy to fall out of love with you
when you just keep on being so perfect.
it’s not easy to be concentrated
when you keep on being so desirable.
it’s not easy to forget your face
when it just doesn’t get less pretty.
it’s not easy to forget your eyes
when suns are still exploding therein.
it’s not easy to forget your body
when you won’t stop looking so damn hot.
it’s not easy to prevent melting at your sight
when you wear that red low back, halter-neck gown.
it’s not easy to hate you
when you just keep on being so lovely.

there is this girl who’s played an important role in your life for many years. you love her. maybe you have from the first instant on, although you keep telling yourself that’s probably a cliche you make yourself believe in to glorify your feelings for her. you can remember that special day six years ago, the first time you saw her, in every detail though, may it ever appear so insignificant to an outsider – or to yourself. you bugged your best friend for weeks until he finally told you to do something about it and tell her you love her. it already took you two months to find out her name. the one who finally helped you in finding it didn’t know he was helping you. he didn’t even know the girl himself. you never thanked him. her name translates into truth. and absolute truth she has always been to you.

you were a rationalist. a freak who suppressed feelings of any kind. a freak who started to believe in destiny. you convince yourself that you should know better today. so you try to get rid of the self-contradictory theory that everything is part of a greater plan beyond your understanding. but then you find out life isn’t so random as others told you. the girl’s family and your family are deeply interwoven. your mother once was a friend of her mother, your father once worked with her father. you had no idea that it was one of her family members who once changed your life, probably permanently, until that person told you she was related to her about a year ago. you suddenly remember that, when you were nine years old, you walked past her house twice a week. and you’ve known her far longer than you always thought. when you were seven years old, you saw her for the first time. at a birthday party of a friend who lived next door to her. you ask yourself if there really is no destiny. it’s no trick your mind plays on you. you found pictures in an old album of which you weren’t aware that it existed.

you think back of how, one day, you decided to take the same bus as she did. you walked a few steps ahead of her. you built up all your courage to ask her out. you stopped. you breathed deeply. again. your heart hit your rips so hardly and quickly the pain almost made you faint. you turned around. she walked more slowly than she usually did, maybe so she wouldn’t catch up with you. you asked yourself if that was a good or bad sign. you turned around again and walked home. you promised yourself you’d ask her out next week. just as you did on every friday.

there’s this girl who will play an important role in your life for many years to come. you love her.

[note: no, i’m neither still self-pitying myself nor am i depressed, this is fiction ;) part two (and maybe some explanation) will follow]

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