“It was really us locking eyes for the first time and recognizing—kind of that recognition of our souls under the moonlight.” –Dan Vega
Fiction. Based on a True Affection
By Charlotte Thomas
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional
It’s incredible how someone can forget feeling something.
Something so primal and instinctive that it’s even a surprise when you feel these things after so long. Something you swore you’d never feel again, after last time, and the time before that. After countless times, I still manage to feel like I’m floating on air, or in their eyes.
It’s the tiny little things about being back in that feeling. The instant connection, the sudden and early comfort of being silent, the stolen, unnoticed glances, sitting just a little closer than normal, and the easy laughs. The sudden skip in my heartbeat and the subconscious grin when their gaze meets mine for a second longer than I expected.
Even though it could be nothing, and I could be reading into the tiny little things he says, or does because I am a diagnosed hopeless romantic, but I can’t help smiling when I see a notification from him on my phone, or when he asks me how my day went.
I am but a fool, and it’s a fact I’ve come to accept a long, long time ago.
Perhaps the reason I forget that rush so easily is because it’s a little different every time. It’s been slow, and steady, and cautious, or it’s been quick and uncontrollable, or it’s been patient and willing. But there’s always a dumb, dreamy smile as though I’m still a little kid fantasizing about my school crushes, that stupid smile that I try to push away, or scold myself for but remains there relentlessly. My heart and my brain never quite connecting in the way I want it to.
But that is this free-falling feeling, isn’t it? Those little moments of bliss that outshine the uncertainty. The teasing of my friends and trying to deny their claims that our feelings are obvious, and quietly wondering “…but what if they’re right?”
For the first time in a long time, I feel ready. Ready to drift again into someone else’s arms that just maybe will help me feel wanted, perhaps even more than before. I want to fall for someone again. And perhaps it could be him.
But I don’t want to rush, either. That’s what’s killed these things before. I want to just exist for a moment in the connection and friendship as we’re building it. These gentle ebbs and flows aren’t made to be pushed, although the temptation is heavy, especially when the ones around us are just about as eager as I am for something to happen. I must try to bring patience and caution into something impatient and reckless.