Her Love is the Oxygen I Breathed

| A Rift in The Oxygen |

Brushwood Creek. My sanctuary. A small town ensnared in the beauty of nature, where whispers of the wind mingled with the verdant trees, and the creek rippled a soft lullaby. Nestled within the heart of this town was my haven, my paradise, and the source of my torment – all embodied in one person. Jessica.

Her laughter was the melody of my universe, her joy the radiance that outshone the sun. She was my oxygen – the one element that held me in life's grasp. Love, they say, is as essential as air. I believed that. I still do.

But love, like oxygen, can play tricks on you. Too much, and you can lose yourself, your judgment becoming clouded. Too little, and you gasp, you choke, and the world around you dims. I was in the midst of that struggle, a battle of emotions that seemed as ceaseless as the flow of Brushwood Creek itself.

We had hit a rough patch. It wasn't an explosive argument or a profound betrayal, but a slow chipping away of our bond, like water against stone. Silence replaced laughter, absence replaced presence. The air between us became heavy, devoid of the very oxygen that defined our relationship.

Her passion for exploring the world gnawed at her, the desire for more than Brushwood Creek and I had to offer. It was an ambition I admired, yet it threatened to tear us apart. She had decided to leave town. A choice that would leave me gasping, deprived of the oxygen that kept me afloat.

It's a bizarre thing, love. It's supposed to make you feel like you're soaring, filled with lightness and life. But when it's at risk, it's akin to suffocation – each breath feels like you're siphoning air from an almost empty tank. I was treading the edge of that abyss, grappling with the anxiety of losing her, of losing my oxygen.

Each moment without her was a struggle. Each conversation held a tension that appeared to suck the very air from the room. I was living in a paradox - caught between a whirlpool of memories of our love and the growing rift that threatened to drown me.

In those quiet moments, I found myself retreating to the creek, our spot, letting the soothing rhythm of the water offer some semblance of peace. The world around me was beautiful, vibrant in its summer bloom, but the colours seemed dull without her.

I was in a state of confusion and quite frankly, desperation. The fear of losing her, of losing the air that fuelled me, gnawed at me. Love isn't just the oxygen I breathe; it is the blood that pulses through my veins, it is the heartbeat that gives rhythm to my life. And without her, I felt an uncomfortable, disconcerting stillness.

Call me a simp or a beta male, I don't care. The love I hold for Jessica is as real and vital as the air in my lungs. But this struggle had taught me that love, much like oxygen, has to be balanced. It can't be too little, nor too much. It just has to be enough. I wish I knew this beforehand.

I sat by the creek as the sky became mixed with the hues of melancholy. The ripples of the water and the rustling leaves - they were no match for the thumping in my heart. It was a storm I tell you; a struggle for breath.

I yearned for the days of old, of love without complications, of a relationship that was as easy as breathing. And in the silence of the creek, I decided, I would travel back through those memories, hoping to find a way to bridge the rift that had been caused by an imbalance of that vital element - oxygen.

My love for her was and is the oxygen I breathe.

| Breathing in the Memories |

A solitary figure against the bright Brushwood sunset, I sat. The singing breeze accompanied by the sweet chirping of the birds were my only companions who carried a tune of the past. It was time to travel back, to the moments that had once filled my world with joy and light, to the genesis of Jessica and I.

It was an inhalation of reminiscence when every breath was replete with the euphoria of love, the oxygen that once kept our souls aflame. Our first meeting was nothing short of serendipity - two souls, lost in the mundanity of life, finding their way to each other in this beautiful, small town.

She was new in Brushwood Creek, a city girl who had moved to find solace in nature. Her charm was undeniable, and her vibrant spirit was like a breath of fresh air – or rather, a gust of fresh oxygen. It felt invigorating, and I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Our love story began by the creek, just as the town was blossoming into spring. Her laughter spoke to my soul, moreover, infused the atmosphere with an intoxicating concoction of joy and love. It was then I realized that she was my oxygen, the element that sparked life into my existence.

We spent our days basking in the sun, under the watchful gaze of the ancient trees. Our occasional flirts were carried away by the creek and blossomed into pretty sunflowers.

Life with Jessica was exquisite; more delicious than fried chicken wings. She was the reason the sun appeared brighter, she was also the reason why the colours of nature were more vibrant. She was the elixir that breathed life into the canvas of my existence. I was living in a bubble of bliss, too engrossed in the euphoria of love to notice the subtle changes in her.

The yearning for more, the thirst for that unsavoury paradox started to tinge her once content eyes. I realized it too late. Her desire to explore and experience life beyond Brushwood Creek started creating a crack in our perfect bubble. Our oxygen was slowly leaking, and I was oblivious, intoxicated by the love I had for her.

As I looked back, the pattern was unmistakable. She was never one to be tied down, her spirit was as free as the wind that rustled the leaves of Brushwood Creek. I understood her need for exploration, her thirst for something beyond this picturesque small town. Yet, I couldn't let go. The fear of losing her was unbearable. Would she return back to the city from whence she came or perhaps venture elsewhere?

Revisiting our past, I realized more and more that love was a complex alchemy that needed the right mixture to brew longevity. It needed the right amount of everything - passion, understanding, compromise, and yes, even oxygen. Too little, and it suffocates; too much, and it intoxicates.

As I sat by the creek, lost in my visit to the past, I felt a renewed sense of determination stir within me. The memories had served their purpose. They’ve shown me where we had gone wrong, where the balance had tipped.

The creek whispered soothing promises as I made my decision. I would fight for her, for us. Jessica was my great air of inhalation and I was ready to rebalance the scales.

| Desperate for Her Oxygen |

At the first appearance of light in the sky, I found myself standing before Jessica's house. My nervousness was apparent but I did my best to hide it.

I knew Jessica was leaving town, but I was desperate to make her stay. So, I walked up to her with my heart in my throat. My mind was contemplating various scenarios and through them all, Jessica was by my side.

Lo, there she was, as beautiful as ever, her aura radiant against the morning light. But her eyes... her eyes held a distant look, the spark of sadness outshining the love that once resided there. I couldn’t remain silent any longer.

"I can't breathe without you, Jess," I confessed, breaking the strategy I previously planned to execute. "You're my oxygen, the one who fuels my existence."

Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something. A hint of sorrow? A touch of regret? I wasn't sure. But there was definitely something there.

Softly, she began, "Mason, you've always been too reliant on me. Too dependent. Love isn't about needing someone to breathe. It's about complementing each other, not becoming a necessity to the point where obsession is the glue between us."

"But Jess, you are my heartbeat, my one true love. My love for you is as vital as the air that sustains me," My desperation was seeping through every word, I couldn’t help myself.

For a moment, silence reigned. It felt as if time had stilled. The world held its breath as it waited for her response.

"I'm sorry, Mason, but I can't be your oxygen anymore." She finally spoke up and immediately turned and left. Her sensual figure was growing smaller as she walked away from me, from us.

I was left standing there with the echo of her words reverberating through my ear over and over again like a broken record. It was slicing through the oxygen and leaving me gasping.

"I love you with all my heart," I whispered to the deserted street. But she was gone, and with her, my source of life.

With a sorrowful heart, I walked to the creek, our creek. I looked at the tranquil water, reflecting the brilliance of celestial light. It held promises of life, promises that now seemed hollow.

“Ah!”

With a deep breath, I plunged into the water and allowed my world to be consumed by the rush of the creek. For a moment, everything went quiet, my existence void of any sound, and void of oxygen.

Seconds which felt like eternity ticked by. Was I going to drown? No, I resurfaced after a minute. The creek's water that was washing over me played its part in masking my sorrow by merging my tears with its own. I released a loud gasp. The oxygen hurriedly filled my lungs and served as a cruel reminder of what I had lost.

I clung onto the hope that one day, Jessica would return, that she would be my air again. But for now, I was left alone with the remnants of our love, with a heart yearning for the romantic rhythm it once had, and a soul that had learned to breathe in her absence. The creek rippled its condolences like a silent witness to the end of our love story. All that was left was me, the creek, and the agonizing absence of my beautiful oxygen.