Today, let’s talk about love. Unapologetic, raw, lustful love. One-sided love sometimes, but the one that still feels complete.
Love, that is so pure and so deep, that even thinking about yourself with someone in your dreams feels like you cheated.
And then you apologize. To nobody but yourself. For having such thoughts, that demean and put shame on the glorious love you feel for that one person, among eight billion others.
The one. Among eight billion.
Have you ever been in such love?
Well, I have been. Not once. Not twice, but every day. Every single day of my life, I feel I’m falling more, and more in love, with that one person.
How strange, that suddenly, someone starts to mean so much. The one. Among Eight Billion.
Suddenly, you feel every nerve in your body, and you can feel the blood rushing through your veins. Pumping through your heart, and you stop.
You stop so that you can breathe because he has been taking your breath away since the moment he sat across you on the rusty wooden table in the faraway outlet of your favorite café.
You would have been on a killing spree if your coffee was turned into a lukewarm mush otherwise, but with him, you can even sip the cold one like it is served piping hot, and you are most likely to even spill it on your favorite white linen shirt when you are with him, but you forgive yourself because you were with him.
And there you are, sitting in front of him, after six long months of wait. The downside of being in a long-distance relationship.
What to say? How to start the conversation? You don’t know, because there is too much to share, and too many things in your head, and not enough time.
The tick-tock of the clock on your right is blaring in your ear, forcing you to count the moments you have left with him until you see him next. Such heavy heart and heavy thoughts have weighed you down already, but somehow, he gathers the courage and takes your hand into his.
Your shivering, cold hand, finally embraces the warmth of his sweaty palms, and you feel alive. You feel like life just rushed into you and your cold, blue skin starts to turn pink, and as he says ‘How have you been?’ in his soft voice, you suddenly stop hearing the blaring voice of the clock anymore.
SILENCE.
Silence is what follows because you don’t really know how to answer that question. How have you been? That’s not a simple one to answer.
Should you tell him that you missed him like hell, every second of every hour of all the days that you were away, or you should tell him about the number of pillows you ruined with your tears when you missed him every night?
Should you tell him how you have been listening to ‘his’ favorite songs on a loop? Or should you talk about how you’ve watched the only movie you watched together in a cinema, over a hundred times by now?
But he hasn’t asked you that. He asked you ‘How have you been?’ And that is not a simple one to answer.
Should you tell him about the number of tests you failed in college, because you could not study, as you were missing him too much to concentrate on any other thing in the world?
Or should you tell him about the number of times you sat alone in the cafe and ordered his favorite ice cream? Should you also tell him about the times you saw his name randomly around you, and you smiled like a fool?
Should you tell him about the countless other things that you planned to talk about, but your mind is now unable to process all the thoughts that are rushing around, and you can’t do anything, but listen to your thoughts in a loud voice, and you scream inside your head to — STOP.
SILENCE.
He sighs and lightens his grip on your hand. He leans forward and tells you that you look beautiful. He forgets about the question he asked because you took longer than forever to answer him, but he doesn’t mind.
You close your eyes, trying to accept this moment as reality.
Six months.
One hundred and eighty days.
The wait has been too long. Too long for both of you, but he’s still somehow holding up, and you are slowly splitting up inside.
Trying your mighty best to control that one droplet of tear from falling, that one droplet of tear, that has been sitting in the corner of your left eye since the moment you saw him, but the weight of one hundred and eighty days makes it fall.
It lands on his hand, and he looks at you. The same look he gave you when you first locked your eyes and fell in love.
The same look, that makes you fall in love with him again, and again. The same look coming from that one. That one, among eight billion.
‘Aren’t you happy?’ he asks.
And you nod, thinking that he will understand the whirlwind of thoughts that has been rushing through your mind ever since, you saw him today after such a long time.
He stands up like a gentleman, to wipe the tears from your eyes, and he pulls you close to hug you.
A hug, that you had been waiting for for eternity. A hug that feels like your thirst of ages has been quenched with one big splash, and that you received salvation from the heaviness of your mind.
A hug that freed you from the imprisonment of life. A hug, that is as relaxing as a cigarette break from hectic office hours. A hug, that you had been craving for.
You finally get it, and you are lost in the moment, that he starts to loosen up. Three minutes have passed, and you both are standing in the middle of an empty outlet of a distant café, but it feels only like three seconds, and you don’t want to let go of him.
You ask him, ‘A little more…’ and he tightens his hug, which feels like his soul is hugging yours, and that you both do not need anyone in the world anymore.
You both are complete, in every sense and in every way. Even if death would come today, you would accept it with a smile. That is the level of your satisfaction and happiness. That is what he does to you, every time he meets you.
Four hours have passed, and you still haven’t taken a single sip of the hot Cappuccino which you ordered.
Earlier, coffee would make you forget the world, but today, your world, made you forget the coffee.
Your world, in eight billion. The one, among eight billion…
…
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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