A Perfect Love Story

I was no one in particular. I had done nothing spectacular, and nothing spectacular had happened to me. However, I was happy. Now I know how remarkably spectacular that was. I had not yet discovered the dark places in my mind. So, in a way, it’s a good thing I found her. It’s good that she taught me the intensity of my emotions and their consequences.

I was young when I met her. Too young. My rose coloured glasses were intact, and I was ignorant to the ugly truth behind them. If you’re at this point in your life, most would advise you to remain there; naivety is a blessing. I believe the world can be an equally beautiful place once you’ve learned to accept its many imperfections. However, I would not know. I am unable to do so, but perhaps I have a dysfunctional relationship with perfection.

Her. She is perfect. To this day I am overwhelmed by how absolutely flawless she is, though I don’t see her very much these days. I hope you never meet her. If you do, I hope you are strong enough to resist her. I was not, and still am not. So I still love her, and I still let her find me. Because she is so perfect, I still let her claim my body and my thoughts when I do see her. I allow myself to indulge in her. She was going to teach me to feel as beautiful as I thought she was.

I did not fall in love with her at first sight. I would not call it love, but lust. I was fascinated by her, an enticing creature I had never encountered before. She is deviously cunning, and looking back, I think she knew that in time she would corrupt my heart, along with every other part of me.

Initially, I was drawn to her because she was my kept secret. I was possessive, keen to the idea of her being mine. There were not many things I could call mine at the time. It appeared I was the only one who noticed her. To think that such an immaculate being could be only mine to know of, to listen to, to love, was immediately intriguing. No one could take her away from me because no one knew she was there. It was the perfect love story.

She ignited something within me, I’m not sure what exactly it was. I had never felt more dedicated to someone in the entirety of my short life. In no time at all, everything I did was for her. I knew it was what she wanted. She gave me an idea to cling to, depend on, and believe in. She provided me with a clear spectrum of what was right and wrong, what made us beautiful and ugly. I had never been a spiritual person, but I had faith in her. I understood how it was possible to follow something so blindly yet so certainly, how one could feel immense faith in a single being despite logic and sensibility.

I had lost my independence, replacing it with the love for her beauty, simultaneously, unintentionally, diminishing parts of my body and soul. I was possessed by her. She settled in my veins, clogging the pathways of my body, and slowing the rhythm of my heart. She froze my fingertips and turned the colour of my hands to a fleshy purple. She stole the golden tint from my skin and placed a constant ache in the pit of my stomach. The allure of her being mine quickly faded, replaced by the obsession of belonging to her. I was always with her, her with me, and soon enough, anyone could see her any time they looked at me. Her presence gave me serenity and instantly numbed even the slightest sense of loneliness. So, why did people look at my lover, my home, as a dungeon?

Our love was ill-fated. Our peaceful co-existence was short lived. I began to realize our closeness ceased to go unnoticed. Concern creeped into their faces in the moments when her presence was most prominent. I feared the intensity of their resentment toward her. I am now aware that only I had developed the dependency. She will never depend on anyone. She doesn’t have to. She will never lose.

It was only once I had absorbed all of her beauty and perfection, did they decide to take her away from me. When they asked, I told them where to find her and I regret that. I’m sorry. They gave me pills to make me not want her. I didn’t take them. She was part of me and I’m afraid of losing her, for I would lose myself. I only take the pills shegives me, the ones that keep me perfect and make her love me.

I packed my bags and tried to leave her in the turbulence of perfection, but she somehow manifested herself in the air that surrounds me. I still feel her in the fluids that flow through me, that gather in the empty spaces, and leak out every remaining crack. I have yet to live a day without her; remembering her presence puts a spell on me.

She comes and goes nowadays. If you find her, or maybe, she finds you, know that I love her. I love her quite enough. If you think she’s perfect, know that love is blind. If you let her inside you, know that she remains in me and am still healing from her treachery. However, If you find her, send her back to me. I need her more than you ever will.

Who am I without her? I wish I could explain the comfort of emptiness, but I have yet to feel it again. I must admit, I feel more vacant now. She only makes appearances when she knows I am too weak to fight her off.

My apologies, I forgot to tell you her name, Ana. Coincidentally, I too found out who she was a little too late.