Today was a somewhat disheartening day. I've never felt a heart-ache as painful as the one I felt earlier. And that, repeatedly. I thought I made peace with it. I honestly did. I thought that I would be okay with the pain. Even now, writing this, it still hurts. Why? It's because I know the things I dream of will always be just that: dreams.
Have you ever had to look forward, on the proverbial "path ahead", and know the futility of it all? It's like wanting to live in another universe, when you know it's not going to happen in your lifetime. However, despite that, you really - truly want to do it. It's what you absolutely know you want, with wholehearted certainty. At best it's a futile desire, at worst it's god-damned heart-breaking.
But what about this: What if you really wanted to live in another universe, and it was possible? More than that, what if you finally get your chance to do it, and when it comes time for you to make the decision, fear grips you? What if that fear overwhelms you, and you refuse? Looking at it objectively, one might say "Throw caution to the wind and go! Don't let fear stop you from getting what you want." In hindsight, you would probably agree. However, you only had that one chance, and once it's gone you'll never get it again. Pretend that if you refuse it, you'll never be able to travel leave this Earth, even if inter-planetary travel becomes commonplace.
Well, it's gone now.
Now let's say that inter-planetary travel did become commonplace. Every where you go, you hear people talking about their vacation to Mars. They talk about how amazing it was to be able to safely be within only a few thousand miles away from Rigel, one of the brightest stars we can see from Earth. Every day there's a constant reminder of the breath-taking wonders you missed because of fear. And no matter how hard you try, you are bound by an unbreakable force never to leave the Earth. That was the price you paid when you let fear get in the way of your getting the thing you wanted most in your life.
I use this analogy because I find myself in a similar situation. Not about traveling to distant planets, not even traveling across the Atlantic ocean. In fact, it's not even necessarily about traveling, itself, though it'll be involved eventually, and I'd have taken that trip happily. No, more than that, it's about the thing, person in my case, I wanted--needed most in my life. Someone I loved more than any person could ever love another. And someone whom, at the critical moment, I left out of fear.
And now I live with the constant reminder of the breathless wonder I could never have, and the pain and heart-ache that comes with it. So while my peers are out in far galaxies, sitting comfortably at lounges and restaurants in Space Cruise Ships, looking out beyond the deck to the awe-inspiring power and breath-taking beauty of Rigel, I'm living on Earth and the closest I can get to it is this.
So here, I shall share what I wrote about this special person. I've changed the name to hide her identity. A futile attempt at explaining in words someone too breathlessly amazing for them.
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The Girl Behind It All
“Jessica Langston”. Our situation is unique, but at least I can still use her real initials.
She is doubtlessly the greatest girl I've ever known, and quite possibly the greatest girl I will ever know. Time has flown since I met her, and yet the thrill of seeing her each day is so much like the first time I saw her that the memories of days-gone-by remain fresh in my mind. Indeed, even as it's nearing two years.
How well can you really know a person in a short amount of time? I had only a few months with her then, but I feel like I've known her for far longer. She trusted me, and I her. It was in that mutual trust that, I feel, years' worth of knowing and understanding was shared between us in the span of mere months. And over the course of two years, we have been through more than most friendships, and even romantic relationships, would ever go through - both together and separately.
I knew her. I know her. And I think there are few sides of her left that I haven't yet seen. This is, in no way, a bad thing. As a matter of fact, I can think of no greater honor to have than having known her. The good and bad of her; the ups and downs; the boring and exciting, and; the utterly frustrating and the endlessly euphoric. I knew those, and more. Without a doubt, she's the greatest girl I've ever known.
It was nearly two years ago when we met. She seemed so different then from the girl I would have known her to be, mere weeks later. She was shy and timid in her own way, but outgoing in another. A girl troubled and bored. I might have paid little mind to her, was it not for a force, an invisible power, like magnetism, that swayed me toward her. What was it? I still don't know, but I like to call it fate.
She would often hesitate to be with me, and spurned my oft-flirtatious advances toward her. Her interactions with me would be kept minimal and impersonal. However, as fate would have it, she and I shared a few friends. For that reason, we often ended up in the same places at the same time. It didn't take long for it to become normal. Through a mutual friend, and through simple games, I started talking to her.
Slowly, through these games, her shyness peeled away. As she became more comfortable with us (our mutual friends and myself), she showed more of that side of herself. However, she never completely did. I knew, though, that inside of her was an excitable and enthusiastic girl. She didn’t shed too many layers and seemed like that was all there was, but I saw that there was far more to her than she let upon.
Curiosity led me, drove me into wanting to know what hid beneath the mountains of personae and identities she had. What troubles, frustrations and insecurities did she have that she didn’t want to share so easily, if at all? And why, before I had even known any of it, was I so magnetically drawn to her? It wasn’t too long before I would find out.
We started speaking privately a short time after those public appearances together. It wasn’t easy getting to that point. As she was hesitant to be around me for so long before then, it seemed almost inconceivable that she would ever subject herself to my company privately. Perhaps she was curious, though I cannot imagine why. Moreover, the likely scenario is that there was a desire inside her, almost an emptiness, that wanted company and it didn’t matter whose it would be. It was, perhaps, a loneliness she felt and though I might have only been tolerable, my company was adequate. She might have even planned it to be temporary.
It might have actually been temporary. Our private trysts might have ended soon after that. Any memories we made later would never have happened. All this was possible, and were the most likely to have happened. Then I wouldn’t be here writing about it. I wouldn’t be writing about her. Fate has a strange sense of humor, doesn’t she? As it happened, the least probable string of events occurred, and here I am.
Through our private contacts with each other, I learned a great deal about her. Her daily life. Her relationships with her family. School, or some equivalent thereof. I never fully grasped what that was, but my understanding narrows it down to some sort of schooling. I learned her hobbies. I saw them. Artwork, dances, and so on. And I was stupefied, almost completely blown away. How incredibly charismatic a person she was! I hungered for more.
I saw her in an entirely different light. Little things I barely noticed before, became focal points. The subtle things she did were as important as the overt - perhaps even more so. The way she moved left me in rapture, like a dismissive wave of her hand, or the way she rubbed her cheeks when she blushed. The way her eyes light up when she sees something she liked, or the way they glared when she’s unamused. The range of facial expressions she would make that made words completely unnecessary. Her face, along with the rest of her, were so expressive that they could communicate without a single syllable ever uttered.
Yet, as if all that wasn’t enough, she did speak. And again, there was a world - no, a universe’s worth of range in that voice. The only thing she would have a lot of trouble doing is to lie. For the tone of her voice would give it away. Her voice reflected her emotion, no matter how hard she’d try to hide it. She could not pretend to be happy if she were sad, or vice versa. And there was indeed, a somewhat profound sadness locked inside of her. When speaking evenly, neutrally, her voice was melancholic. A sadness inside her heart that I doubt she was even fully aware of.
But that voice, those eyes, her body. They could never lie to me. I was listening to her voice, as a doctor would listen to a patient’s heart, or chest. As a mechanic would listen to an engine. Listening for the subtle tells of problems. I liken her voice, neutral voice - when she’s too distracted to put on a mask, so to speak - to that of a violin, playing quietly in the deepest, darkest night. A sweet, melodic sound, and yet completely alone in the silence. There were many nights, in fact, that I would sit and remember the tones of her voice during a previous conversation, and find myself moved to tears.
It was like sitting alone in an auditorium or concert hall, listening to a single artist pour out her saddest memories through her violin. I found my eyes swell with tears, and my lips tremble as my heart broke. And yet not a word of it was spoken. I simply knew it through her voice, through her eyes. I sometimes wondered if she had found her way to me simply because of that loneliness she wanted to rid herself of. I wouldn’t have minded. If it made her happy and less lonely, I would always be there.
We got to be very close. She bared herself to me. Trusted me. I think I can confidently say she trusted me more than she trusted any other of our mutual friends. It wouldn’t have been hard to fathom. I can say the same. I trusted her more than any other, as well. Moreover, I trusted her more than anyone. Period. And I grew to care very deeply for her. I still do. She could have told me that she thought aliens were secretly watching her and stealing all the left ones of every pair of socks she owned. I would have believed her. I’d have laughed, and told her she was being silly... but I would have believed her.
Soon enough, she and I were nearly inseparable. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Where ever she was, I wanted to be with her. And where I went, I took her with me. I think back on that and can’t help but feel a little guilty. We spent less and less time with the “other friends” as I monopolized her attention. She might have been unwilling - I never considered that at the time. I never thought she might not have had the courage, the will or the strength to say so. Sometimes I wonder if the time we spent together was even out of her own willingness or her own inability to decline and reject me. But I trust it all to be genuine.
I used the word “trust” a lot in these previous paragraphs. There’s a reason for the emphasis. If there is a single idea that stands high above all others in my belief, it is this: “One cannot love another without trusting that person.” And in that sense, to love someone completely means trusting her completely as well. This, I did.
This, I still do.
Through all the time we spent together, the many nights we’ve shared, my trust and care for her bloomed into something more. Into something I knew she deserved. For a girl like her deserves nothing less than to be loved completely. A girl as faithful and honest as her deserves nothing less than to be trusted utterly.
And yet... I was too afraid to admit it. Even as I opened up to her more than I had done to anyone else before then, there was the one thing I was too afraid to admit. Fate has a cruel sense of humor, indeed. And just as quickly as that cruel mistress brought “Jessica” and I together, she started a sequence of seemingly unrelated events that led to us going apart. And before either of us became fully aware of it, we had gone back further than we were when we were strangers. I leave myself to blame for it all.
It was just a few months ago when she and I started keeping in touch again. I sought her out, even as she had built a wall - a bona fide, high-voltage electrical fence, purpose-built - to keep me out. I sought to reconnect what we had lost. It was a foolish, and moreover, selfish endeavor. Things would never be what they had been. I guess I always knew that.
In many ways, she’s changed.
In just as many ways, she’s stayed the same. For better or worse, she’s always been, and in my heart I believe she always will be, that same wonderfully charismatic, aggravating, amusing, heart-warmingly kind, heart-breakingly beautiful, frustratingly complex, and endearingly simple girl I’ve always known. Perfectly flawed, and yet flawlessly perfect, the greatest girl I’ve ever known, the greatest girl I will ever know; and I will always love her with all my heart.
