Who Ever Said Love Was Fair?

Love is easy, at least, that's what they say.

I've thought over and over about what I want out of life, about who I want in my life. In an ideal world, it would be as simple as that, I'd know what I want and I'd go for it. But what if you don't know what you want? Or what if, worse, you do know what you want? What if what you want is bad for you, bad for other people? At what point do you cut your losses and just go for it?

The truth is: I'm in love.

I've been in love with the same girl for the last six years, and nothing I do seems to change that. Usually, that wouldn't be a problem, especially as this girl feels the same way. But there's a problem.

She isn't the girl I'm dating.

I know, shocker. I'm still currently torn as to how terrible a person this makes me. Does it count that I don't want to be with her? That I also love and care deeply for the girl I am with? That I haven't spoken to her in nearly a year because I love the girl I'm dating? I hope so.

It's a problem that gets more problematic the more I think about it.

Why?

Because I'm not attracted to her.

So that raises the question that has tormented my every waking thought for months: How can I be in love with someone I'm not attracted to? Someone I don't want to be with? How is that possible?

More importantly: How is that fair?

In some ways, I know the answer. This girl was my best friend, the one person I knew better than anyone else in the world... And then suddenly, she was gone.

For any of you that have a best friend of the opposite sex, you know it can be difficult when you start dating someone else. They don't want to date you, but they also don't want anyone else to date you either. For reasons I won't go into in this story, when I started dating, she cut off contact with me. I've never been good at losing people, but I never expected it to get to where it is now. She won't look at me, she won't speak to me, and a well of tension and misery hangs in the air on the rare occasions social arrangements force us into the same room. It breaks my heart.

It's the dreams that have been the hardest part.

I've never been one for sad dreams or nightmares, my sleep-self is usually entertained with visions of flying or of superpowers or action movies, but in the last few months, I've been struck with a terrible glitch.

I watch, over and over, as I try to speak to her. The scenery changes: a party, her house, an empty street, but the results are always the same. She won't look at me. She won't speak to me. And every morning I wake up, the memory of her face imprinted in my brain, stamped behind the lids of my eyes.

I love her.

I miss her.

But to have her as a friend would mean losing the girl I love and care for, the one who's been by my side. The one who makes me laugh, who cares for me and tries her absolute best to be the best she can be. I could never do that.

Which brings me to the only logical conclusion: Love is not easy. Love is a mirage that dissolves the second you're close enough to touch it. It is a weight that hangs around your neck, seeking free passage through life without a care for the consequences. And what do we get in return? What benefit do we receive for paying such a lofty price?

I'll let you know.