“I’m serious, Elena. I can’t see you anymore. I don’t want to hear your voice, I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t even want to look at you. And I sure as hell don’t want to be your friend.” – Damon Salvatore It’s the weight of love… There came a moment in my […]
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The Weight of Love

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“I’m serious, Elena. I can’t see you anymore. I don’t want to hear your voice, I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t even want to look at you. And I sure as hell don’t want to be your friend.” – Damon Salvatore

It’s the weight of love…

There came a moment in my life when everything I thought I knew was questioned. As if I was blinded and regained my sight, suddenly, I started to notice that cute smile that erupted off of his face when he looked at me. Woah! wait a second, get a grip, mentally slap your face. Rewind. Wait a second what am I even stressing about? he’s not even cute in a conventional way… He knows me like the back of his hand, he’s the shoulder I lean on, and I had the most platonic feelings for him ever since I knew him… up until lately. Ugh!

Things slowly shifted into a very awkward position, when he was near, the air around us would be so thick, it suffocated me, you could cut the tension between us with a knife, I couldn’t articulate my thoughts, I just sat there, motionless, completely stupefied, a big lump caught in my throat, and my eyes were so wide my eyeballs looked as if they were about to pop out of their place. It was an unbearably awkward situation, so alien to me, something I never experienced before. But I cared for him, and cherished our friendship deeply, an overwhelming amount, so I just sat there, soaking up every drop of this uncomfortable feeling.

He was looking at the sea, dropping pebbles off the shore, his brows furrowed with concentration, I lay there in silence, watching him, still on the same page of the book I started two hours ago, what a sweet distraction he were, so carefree, childish like, dropping the formal attire and serious tone he so liked to use around people, showing his other side, his naked soul, it was these moments I desperately hung to and grasped in the realms of my memory.

Love is all about being brave, about risk and putting your heart out there knowing that it’s not always going to be the way you want, but proves you were tough enough to truly express yourself. Not telling him though? That was utterly painful. It ate me up, consumed me and turned me into someone I was not, until I dropped that weight, got up, brushed the sand off my skirt, moved forward, stood right next to him, up on the tip of my toes, and let that burning fire, full of wrath, in all its wickedness, take over me.

 

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