Hurtles

I didn’t know who he was, in the usual sense. I was not aware of his appearance; not in height or weight, nothing. Never had I laid eyes on the man but despite all of this I found myself falling more in love with him as every day flew by. Around my head, the days flew; through my ears and in between my toes. One by one I was blinded as the nights came to an end again and again without my consent. How is it that time can fly by so quickly when you actually start not paying attention to it? The answer was easy but accepting it for most people is the difficult part. Time moves when you look in the opposite direction because, in all truth, you are asking it to. Sure, you aren’t screaming to the world, “Time, go forward! Fly, as I patiently wait for what my future brings!” But in reality time knows this is what we want.

That’s a lie. Time doesn’t know. And we don’t tell time what our hearts desire.

You see, when you are in grief, or in love, or in pain, or under stress, or basically any of the hundreds of things that can change the course of your day you no longer pay attention to the seconds ticking by and the hours that leave you along with them. Your distracted mind allows you to wander away from it all. This is normal, mind you, and is nothing to get worked up over. However, with these stresses that pull on life we must let a part of our time go with them which is something many fail to enjoy. What use is it to waste the little bit of time we have here in this world? And for what? To dwell on one thing or another that we can do nothing about?

But the purpose of this is not to tell time or why it passes us by. It all goes back to the very beginning, the line that reads: I didn’t know who he was, in the usual sense. Now it has come time to decipher this. What is the usual sense? Unaware of anything usual --there isn’t anything--but the wording is more appropriate than it may appear.

I suppose I have told another lie.

This man, I know him. I know him well yet I profess to you that I don’t know him. In the usual sense. Oh, must it come back to this?! I’m afraid so, with my telling of mixed thoughts and all. Well, I think now I have come to terms with what the usual sense is for those currently in the world. The usual sense is what you notice about someone from the outside. As human beings, we are unfortunately very judgmental. Not one of us can avoid it; it is a part of our species so don’t you try and deny it! But I have never seen this man. Never. Not once. But then, how is it that I know so much about him?

Because I do.

I know he is the type of man who would act on impulse, like I do. He would never, ever! begrade someone else for being who they are. He is brilliant with words, so unlike myself who fails to get my point across in a comprehensible way. He sways like the wind, coming toward me one moment and falling away the next, only to return on foot if he ends up too far away to see me anymore. He is considerate and humorous—almost too comical if you want to get accurate.

But he isn’t perfect either. After all, who out there is? I know I won’t meet someone flawless in my days roaming this land. He’s a perfectionist and picky about what he consumes. He has to shower more than once a day or I’ll hear about it for the longest time. This man, he doesn’t wear socks and he likes books. A lot.

But please remember that I have never met this guy. But you want to hear the funny part? He doesn’t even have a name. Nope, this man I have fallen head over heels for has no name that I know of. And I can’t name him either because he will come clean with me when he’s ready. But for now, he is not ready.

So, I’ll just let you in on another secret. He has not even started the preparation stages yet. To get ready, I mean. I know you are confused but you will understand soon, I promise. He has not tried to prepare himself for the biggest plot twist in his life because he has yet to realize that I exist. He knows that I exist, but not yet does he know I am out there in this world.

You see, this boy is not real. He’s not fictional, but he certainly isn’t truthful either. We all have those little fantasies where we come up with our perfect men, our dream guys.

Well this, my friends, is mine.