The Story Of A Girl

I’m not right sure how I can possibly go about writing the love that I feel. Or to express to the gratitude. Is that the word? I don’t know. I don’t feel like I should be thanking her for getting me to the train station on time (though she’s done that), or for lending me some music (though, again, she’s done that time out of count). It’s more a peaceful sense of thanks that she came into my life when she did. I honestly don’t know what I would be without her — less of a person in many ways, I do know that. Without her I wouldn’t be, well, me, though some could argue that that would have been a good thing. But I’m not here to trace through a path of might-have-beens. I don’t have the skill, the self-awareness, or the will, to figure out what I would have been like if things had been different. I am having issues enough deciding what I am like with the way things actually happened.

Fate. No, I don’t really like that particular word, that idea. Life made sure that I met her long before I knew her (and yes I know I am being ridiculously convoluted and cryptic), two years, in fact. Two years of sitting within touching distance and barely a word spoken between us. Me, shy, and not fitting in. Her, not fitting in, and shy. Yeah, I’m thick; moronic might even be a more accurate description. You think I don’t beat myself repeatedly over the head with the knowledge that I wasted two years? Huh? But that’s done with, I finally plucked up the courage and I don’t know what it is was, but something just clicked, and suddenly I knew. She was the one. I could willingly tie my life to this girl, and I wouldn’t regret it.

And I was right. Not one second has passed where I have regretted that decision to follow her into the Bar, or when I let myself be held to ransom for a piece of ginger cake. It is easy, when you let it be, to love someone. You just… do it. Let that person in whole-heartedly, hold nothing back, et voila, magic. Soul-mate. Friend.

I don’t let people in easily; I tend not to let people in at all, in fact. That is my fault, one of my many flaws, I know. So what about her that makes me smile at the most inopportune moments? Just thinking of her existence and I start to float. She stands for all that is good in my life, and acts as a barrier to all that is bad. When she’s in pain, my heart breaks. One girl and I would willingly die for her. And she doesn’t know. That’s the sad thing about the whole situation. She doesn’t know. God I am thick, when you think about it, I really am stupid. I am in danger of chasing away the most perfect thing in my life because I am scared. Because I think I have forgotten how to let someone in totally. Even when I am with her, I keep this tiny bit back. I wish I didn’t, it’s not like I wake up in the morning planning what I can keep secret today. I trust her implicitly, I love her more than life, yet I still can’t make that final step and tell her all that I am. Because I am scared. I am scared of the hurt that I will feel when she finally realises the truth and leaves me. I am so shit scared of that one thing happening, I think I am making it happen.

I don’t know how to live without her, and I think that is what paralyses me the most out of the entire situation. The fact that I have let someone into my life to such an extent that I am not a full person without her. I think of life without her, and I freeze. Is this what love is? To be so totally scared that the one person you care for above all others will leave one day? Is love the inability to be one hundred percent content and happy in the moment, because you are dreading that future second when you will no longer be together? Is it being jealous, because the other is finding her happiness with other people?

Or is it the knowledge, deep down, that perhaps they feel the same way. That perhaps they think the same things and that perhaps you mean just as much to them. Perhaps it’s the secret knowledge of the pretty face she hides from the world, of that smile she keeps just for you. When you can look at a blurry dog-eared photograph and treasure it more than gold, maybe that is when you know you are in love. Maybe that is when I knew.

6 thoughts on “The Story Of A Girl

  1. Nice, the question is which parts are the snapshots and which parts are the actual fiction? Because if it is fiction, would you like a comment on it? If it is real, well then…I can tell you that I can relate to this story.

    There are some things that you hide from others no matter what, but never from the one you consider your soulmate. The one that you have no defence against. The one that you find yourself lost to, forever and never.

  2. oh man.

    i seem to have the a very similar ‘problem’.

    the only thing is that she has a boyfriend, and i’m stuck as the friend, and possible romantic choice. and, yes, the 2 years is also ironically similar.

    wow. i couldn’t have put it better myself.

    i will one day link this post in my blog… once i gather up the courage to post it, knowing she reads it too.

    thanks for the amazing post. it brought tears.

  3. Edrei – you’ve just asked the multi-million dollar question. How much of fiction is based on real life? In this case, the ratio of fiction to reality shall remain between me and my keyboard! But yes, regardless of fiction or reality, I always want comments!

    shift – I’m glad it struck a cord with you and I hope that things work themselves out soon. Welcome to Bright Meadow πŸ™‚

  4. If it was fiction, you could do without the 4th paragraph. Sometimes you need to let the reader feel the mood rather than describe the situation in detail. It’s like telling people that its cold without using the words “It’s cold”. It might go down a little smoother. πŸ™‚

    That’s just me though. πŸ™‚

  5. Lila, I’m going to choose to take mindbending as a compliment πŸ˜‰ What bits weren’t clear for you?

    Edrei – hmmmm, comment noted, taken on board, and being pondered. Thank you for the feedback πŸ™‚

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