It will be two years next month. Two years to the day I first saw you walking away from me. All I could see at the moment was you. You were a 100m away, but all I could do was stop and watch as you went away. You had left me spell bounded. You, who had made me slightly doubt my notion that 'love at first sight' was a myth. You had crashed in and inhabited a part of me I never knew existed. A part of me which was killed by someone I had deeply loved. A part of me --- that had festered a wound --- too deadly for my existence. And you were like a healing salve. And I think that was your biggest gift to me. Reminding me, if not even unintentionally, that, love transcends every facade you put up. But seeing you, at that moment, simply walking away, I was awestruck.
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I knew I was doomed. Because never, I mean never have I ever been in such a trance. You were like a soulful tragedy about to happen. It took me almost a year after that to talk to you. And almost a year after that to tell you how much I loved you. But you never responded. Not that you didn't respond positively, but that you never responded. I have become so entranced that I have lost my reality. Pardon me, but you should know..
I am irrevocably in love with you. And I get that you aren't. Not with me at least. And that's okay. I am okay with it. But sometimes, I feel like pulling you into a hug until you realise how much, how badly, how deeply I love you. But I can't. I wish I could. And every day I wish that you would message me or call me. But you don't. And every day, I pacify myself. And every day, every single day, I wish that you message me or call me and tell me that you love me, too. And every day, I wish I wasn't such a slave to your masterful absence.