Dear... Foreigner
Is it a fate or a coincidence that when I was a teenager, I read a story at school about two lovers who felt the same but at different times?
I was fascinated by that tragic and powerful story but never thought it would happen to me. It probably did. I met you, many years ago. The new coworker in a corporation. You were an independent, young and handsome foreigner, whose name pronunciation was an enigma for me.
Maybe it was not love at first sight, but falling in love at first kiss… maybe both. You did not ask much, just gave me the best kiss ever and turned my world up side down.
I had a boyfriend at that time and we lived quite happily. Still, you stole a piece of my heart and brain, or soul immediately … and never gave it back. Walking around each other for years was maddening, your explanation that we were from very different worlds was cruel but true. And when we were drawn back to each other later on, I had that conversation stuck in my head: that it won’t work, you don’t like me enough… I did not trust myself anymore.
Still we made love and I treasured all our moments because the world stopped, passion took over, life was lighter and more meaningful. Unfortunately, the world started to turn again on its axis. But I was off mine - overwhelmed by guilt, pain, confusion. Yes, it was scary, the fear to risk and go after this intense feeling.
I left you, as I thought you would not miss me that much anyway. Handsome, with many girls around. It broke my heart. I’m not sure if it did anything with yours?
I built a family with someone else and had to put so much love into them that I nearly forgot, still keeping this burden of guilt.
However, in dark or silent moments, I ran to you and our almost love. And I miss you so. I chose stability over passion and now I pay for it. You will not save me. Your long term distancing plan works perfectly, your silence still hurts, even though I understand and respect it.
You moved on with your life. I am happy for you. I am bearing wonderful but very painful memories with me. A love song, a romantic movie, a random meeting or your name brings me back. I could have moved on. But I don’t want to yet because you are (and now I will borrow those words from a romantic that described it exactly) the bane of my existance and object of all of my desires. Still.
Less and less real and more and more a harmful fantasy. After all the years. No happy ending. Auch.