As the World Ends

I am just not okay anymore. At least not in the sense of what I knew to be okay only a short time ago, a time before I lost myself so completely.

This is not, however, a story of how I fell apart with sadness, depression eating at my soul and tearing away the blimps of happiness that became less and less frequent as the days progressed. No, this is a story of how I fell in love, and what it has done to me every day since.

Some believe that when you are in love, it feels the same every day, but I have found that I disagree. Some days feel lonelier than others do; then there are those moments where you are so blissfully happy that you assume after the incident has become a memory that nothing in the world could ever peak the pleasure you felt at that point in time. Moreover, there are even more repeated occurrences when your mind is in constant battle over whether you should retract now while there is still hope of coming out in one piece.

As most people realize by the end of their lives, however, that is never quite possible.

Something goes with you when you give your soul to someone, be it an ability to trust again, the manner in which you laugh, or, simply, a metaphoric chunk of the heart that has come to be a symbol of the emotion at hand.

For instance, I am currently at the all-consuming phase, and I fret that the torment and beauty of it will never find a perfect harmony. My situation is unique to many, but I fear that anyone could argue the same for their own. No circumstance can ever be the same, no love in particular responds the same way, and therefore the differences among the millions that exist in the world are quite legitimate despite my selfish desire for mine to stand out.

There is nothing particularly interesting about the way I fell in love. I met a guy; thought he was sort of cute; found out he had a girlfriend; remembered the fact that we live several hours away; forgot about him; he showed up in my life every now and then; him and his girlfriend broke up; he was heartbroken; rebounded with another girl; not ready; months go by, occasional interaction; he asked me about a trip I took; immediate sparks; we continued to talk into my senior year of high school; and we talked some more; and some more; and some more; we met in person again a few months later; we kissed; I’m in love; and I continue to fall deeper in love as more months go by, hoping that I will see him again sooner than I imagine, that we can keep things up until we both go off to college in the fall.

And I’m still in love. Almost ten months have passed since that day our relationship changed forever, almost two years since I first met him. But many things have changed over the course of these transitory months and I am certainly one of them. It is so easy to look back on your life and wonder how one person can make a difference on the way you act, the way you think, your aspirations for the future. I have been doing this for months, amazed at how much of me can go to one single person without my conscious awareness.

I have wasted weeks thinking of the few moments we have actually been able to relish in each other’s company. My heart leaps as I think of the first time he kissed me, sitting in his car in his hometown in the middle of winter, after telling me he liked my earrings. I cannot forget the feeling of his hand in mine, his charming grin, or the wonderful sparkle in his eyes. He has been hurt so deeply, it is rather remarkable that it is still there. Nevertheless, I see it; I do, even when he cannot.

My conflict is what is unique to my love, if that is not distinctive enough on its own. I am in love with a man who is incapable, at least at this moment, of loving me back. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—he tells me often how extraordinary I am and how much I mean to him—but his heart cannot separate itself from him, for it did once and came back nothing short of crushed and broken. It is not my fault, this I know, but my own heart leaps in pity for the boy who holds it so permanently, without his knowledge.

He does not know the extent my feelings. He knows I like him as more than a friend...but love? That is a concept he has not considered, especially with the actual circumstance of our relationship. For me to even associate myself with such a feeling is ridiculous, but you will find in life, if you have not yet, that control over a situation is not a guaranteed right. I did not intend to complicate my life by falling in love with a man who not only lives far away from me, but also has the unfortunate situation of being chained to a life that once meant so much to him.

A life without me.

While it is clear that he has no feelings for the girl who broke not only his heart but also his soul, I cannot help but be a little jealous of her because she was the subject of raw love and admiration from the only man who I have ever loved with all of myself. It is ridiculous, it always is, but when you have as much time as I do to think about your life, you realize that sometimes the answers are simple but coming to terms with the questions themselves is what makes the journey so difficult. She had him at one point: all of him. That is something I fear I will never be able to say with complete accuracy. He is still broken, he is still not ready to delve into the pools of an uncertain relationship, and this hurts me every second. Yet, I understand and thus accept it.

Our feelings—I suppose it is truly fair to call them love—blossomed as the world was ending. Thousands of people caught up in chaos and uncertainty, they were the backdrop of our romance, the memory I now associate with the months that were our relationship. To me, it happens to symbolize that our souls began our romance with the intention for an ending; however, it need not be a permanent conclusion. Hope is the ever-present condition of human nature that we as people forget about, failing to recognize its grasp on our days’ events second by second, but never forgetting that there is indeed one factor that causes us to stop and think, if even for a moment, of what we truly desire.

And so, despite my uncertainty of your feelings for me today, I quote you with an inerasable hope deep within my soul, and promise you this: “I will wait for you.