andreya

I haven't made love with anyone like I used to with the boy I fell in love with in high school. I know that boy, now a man, would laugh if he knew this. I was not good enough for him, but for me, he was overwhelming and wonderful. So much so, that I was sometimes afraid of the all-consuming love I felt for him. I adored him so much that I began to act like I hated him. I still pine for him. I feel that it is so pathetic, but I cannot help it. I love him. He is the only man I've loved. Sometimes I think I may die and he may be the last person I think of. Maybe it's because I want to believe in that fantasy that we had: that we were meant for each other and that nothing could keep us apart, not even death. I want to hold on to those ropes that we used to tie ourselves together. But I am holding on to a slack line, and I know it. He unwound himself long ago and flew away. I believed so firmly that he would always love me. This beautiful pain defines me.