It Has Always Been You

It Has Always Been You

I’m in the library again. My hands feel around as I take in the reality of paper and ink. It’s an amazing world where reality meets fiction, where death meets incarnation, where I meet you.  

You sit at a corner, with the air of indifference you could muster, while your eyes trail my every step from shelf to shelf. And for the brief moment that you are here, I am content.   

I have had more than my fair share of being schooled by you in patterns of thoughts, theories of the unreal, culture of the supernatural hominin, and really, it isn’t something I have ever gotten tired of. But this time, I want something different, totally different from the previous.   

As I stand, waiting for you to come to terms with what we truly desire, I hear the rustle of paper as you proceed to the next page of the book under your full attention. It is a book I will never be caught reading dead, but weirdly enough, I enjoy hearing all about it from you. Your manner of gesticulation and choice of words draw me into one with the persona, that at the end of the day, I feel what they felt, see what they witnessed, and hear all their cries while being seated miles and years away from the creation of the work.     

Suddenly, I feel you stare at me.   

I turn to catch your eyes, but you had just turned them away. Will it be an act of desperation if I cry out to you to look at me?    

I tap my foot on the floor, counting each beat. I had sworn that once it got to ten, I would tell you how I feel. Before I get to five, you call out for me.   

A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I fly to your side in expectancy. You blush, reach for my elbow, and stare deep into my eyes.   

All I can think about is the similarity between your hold and your touch. So full of unspoken words and emotions, so real, so true.   

I am only vaguely aware of the race of my heartbeat as I try to hang on to the moment and absorb every emotion. Like misty water being made clear, I can finally hear you through your eyes.   

You convey emotions of want and despair, love and boundaries. I recognize your restraint but do not care to examine your reasons too closely. It will end up terrifying me. I edge closer to you, compelled by an unseen force to taste your lips, to see if whatever you feel can be found in them too.    

I tremble as my eyes close, shocked at what I find. I am struck with a need to prove myself to you, that I deserve more than being just a mentee, that I want more than that.    

Here is the thing though. You are a hundred miles far from me and have a significant other. While, I’m just here, stuck in my head.   

So even if all this is imaginary, I am with you in my happy place for a moment. Now I can breathe and get on with my life, you as my mentor, and I, your innocent mentee.   

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