Love is Pretty Scary When It’s True
I could feel the electricity course through my nerves and converge on my brain as my skin touched hers. The feeling was ecstatic, as though my mind would actually blow. The magic of hormones ever defies my comprehension. My arms wrapped around her torso, I could feel the core of her entire body framework. I closed my eyes to get absorbed in the moment, for I knew it wouldn’t last long. The scent on her—which I could barely identify though I had now come to associate it with her—was the sweetest and most endearing I could imagine. The thought of letting her go was too distant to surface.
I was still somewhat oblivious to my surroundings and how she really felt. Had she initiated the embrace out of will or compulsion? Was she doing it on purpose? I didn’t bother seeking answers to the endless questions that plagued my erstwhile inert mind. I was feeling lonely—though perhaps I knew it not—and all I really wanted was to get lost in the moment, soaked up in a bit of exuberant ecstasy. In retrospect, it strikes me that my mind possessed this strange sort of childlike innocence, such that as her chest pressed against mine, my thoughts didn’t wander into lascivious quarters. I was fixated on and fascinated by her heartbeat. “I love you, Angela,” I muttered, as my knees quaked.
***
It’s dark and quiet outside. Having shot a swift glance at the clock at the corner of the table before me, I look out the window, hoping to find the moon in its place, with the night sky littered with stars and flying brooms—or bats, or anything to account for my being awake at 1:48 am thinking about a woman. As if in a serendipitous mocking move, my Spotify plays Kyndal Inskeep’s “Parachute” through my Oraimo speaker in the background. Almost reflexively, I down the remaining content of the half-empty Coke can next to me. In no time, I find myself humming the lyrics under my breath: “Who knew I’d be falling like I am with you? Heart’s up in my throat, that’s what you do; Love is pretty scary when it’s true.”
But am I scared? Or am I just human?
Angela was my safe space. We grew fond of each other faster than I could spell my name. The way we met and bonded was perhaps more of the koi no yokan type—it wasn’t love at first sight, yet I just had the feeling that chemistry was only a few interactions away. She wasn’t the first person I would be involved with, yet every moment with her was a breath of fresh air. She had this infective aura of mirth and liveliness that was both irresistible and undeniable, indeed almost magical. She always had a way of drawing me out of myself, and while I was still healing from my first major heartbreak when we met, she gave the high that kept the pain away—or at least seemed to.
The day I became aware that she felt the same way I felt about her, my mind couldn’t contain it. It certainly couldn’t have been my stale, inferiority-emaciated steeze, I thought. I’ll never know what she saw in me. It’s always funny though, how the person who seems so distant and high up there and doesn’t appear to regard you much may actually be more interested in you than you can imagine.
Today, I’m reminded of how scary love can be—how each time, choosing to pursue these feelings is like putting my life on the line. In the arena of human affection, indeed “every step is like walking on the tightrope.” Yet, I seem to never learn. Dear reader, could the “new” lady I told you about the other time be another Angela in disguise—given this same progression of feelings and events? Well, there’s only one way to find out. I pick up my phone and send her a text.
Mr. eX
