Not long ago, in a charming dream,
I saw myself -- a king with crown's treasure;
I was in love with you, it seemed,
And heart was beating with a pleasure.
I sang my passion's song by your enchanting knees.
Why, dreams, you didn't prolong my happiness forever?
But gods deprived me not of whole their favor:
I only lost the kingdom of my dreams.
- Alexandr Sergeyevich Pushkin
We passed each other today. His gaze locked into mine and he smiled. His face showed both affection and regret. And I wondered which of these two he meant more. And although there’s a contrast between these feelings, they somehow seem to connect.
His eyes, however, were revealing something more concrete than that. Or they were saying more likely. They were saying, “I’m sorry it has to be this way, but I’m not ready for a greeting or a farewell. Besides, I’ll be gone next year, so it’s better to leave it as it is.” Or was my imagination playing wild? In any way, my head agreed, but my heart was aching. It wanted so deeply to say hello and get to know the blue-eyed boy regardless of the consequences. It was prepared to learn whether, through that angelic face, he was charming or the opposite of my idealism. It was prepared to go through any obstacle possible let it be mockery, let it be friends’ judgments. It was prepared to say, “Forgive me pride and dignity, but this is something that I just have to do.” It was prepared to fly to the Seventh Heaven or fall into Inferno. It was ready for anything.
In the end, the head won over the heart.
It said, “You plus him don’t equal love. Wake up, take a look at you and him, and face the facts. He is much older than you.”
“But age is only a number. There isn’t much difference between us,” the heart protested.
“Maybe that is so, but if he truly wanted to meet you, he would have made an initiation by now.”
“But what if he is timid?”
“Maybe that is so, but you sent him a little gift with a note and he would have replied to this some way if he really wanted to.”
“But what if he doesn’t know it was from me?”
“Maybe that is so, but he would have found out one way or another if he was truly eager to.”
“I never thought of that.”
“Of course not, you only feel and act on impulses. Thank Lord you got me to stop you from getting broken.”
And the heart gave in, but couldn’t help wonder why he never approached. It was more than obvious we fancied each other, so then why? Was it because he wanted me to make le premier pas because he was too proud? But doesn’t a man feel more fulfilled and powerful when it is him who wins the heart of a woman and not otherwise? Was it because he feared of being rejected? But why when it is evident that I’m attracted to him? Was it because he didn’t really like me and it was just an illusion? But why does he look at me in a loving way? Was it because he lacked experience? Was it because the timing wasn’t right? Or finally, was it because within his strong appearance laid a wretched boy that didn’t want his fragile heart to be shattered? So many questions were left unanswered.
I hate to admit it, but as much as I wanted to meet him, I was rather relieved not to. I knew that there was nothing better than a fantasy and nothing worse than a fantasy becoming a reality, which was almost always a great big disappointment. A fantasy could be anything you want it to be, because you’re the creator and it is your creation. But a reality is far more different and far more dangerous than a fantasy, unless you pretend that you’re William Shakespeare and give out scripts to everyone that are in your fantasy, but is it really worth all that much effort? Most times, your fantasy becoming a reality doesn’t turn out the way you imagined it and it could severe you, perhaps not instantly, but you will feel something negative sooner or later let it be pain, humiliation, or desperation.
“And so be it,” I said. “It seems that this is how it is meant to be: a fantasy.”
Hence we departed without a hello, without a goodbye but a momentary glance. It was bittersweet.
Submission Name: Struggle
