“In a year’s time, would you look at me the same way you look at me now?” she asked him one day as his gaze adored her.
Silly Girl, he thought to himself.
At the time, he had comforting statements for her immediate relief. He had words which to him seemed so meaningless— so not worthy of how he actually felt— yet he gave them a try. She seemed so convinced there for a moment, like a little kid who is briefly diverted with a candy.
“If we ever part, it will break my heart,” she mentioned at another occasion.
He gave it another try with the words – the stupid words that undermine every emotion. There were better ways to explain it to her. There was a better way to tell her about the painful, undeniable love that kicks his better judgment into a bottomless canyon. The kind, that makes him want to sing her cheesy love songs, feed her with his hands, to help her fall asleep in his arms, to make her laugh, to let her pick our Friday night movies, even the ones he hates… and to kiss her endlessly.
They say a woman’s imagination runs wild. It travels from admiration to love and from love to matrimony in a moment.
She is a woman. How would she know that he has already danced with her in the clouds, savored every nook and corner of her face in his memory, sat down for hours and did nothing but thought about her? How would she know that his heart literally screams when he sees her sad face? How can she see that he feels her presence around him all the time even in the busiest times of the day? That his love has become a constant sensation which nothing has been able to interrupt and it only alternates between absolute and tender devotion to acute agony throughout the day.
She wouldn’t understand. She thinks that he will forget her in a years’ time…
Silly Girl!
-omi
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