It was inevitable. He was my best friend for the majority of my formative years. He knew me like the back of his calloused hand and I knew him inside and out, piece by crazybeautiful piece. I could tell you where every mole on his body was, how he smelled sweetest in the morning, and the intricate way in which his green eyes told stories. So that early summer night in the back of his dusty red pickup truck, it was inevitable. From the moment we crossed that terrifying threshold from friends to lovers, I knew this was a defining moment in my life and I would never really be the same. The passion and love that was ignited in my veins over the course of the following two years is what epic love stories are made of. It wasn’t the kind of relationship you settle into, slowly putting your feet up and stretching out on the sofa while becoming comfortable. No. It was me teetering on the edge of a jagged cliff, losing my balance, and plunging headfirst into the unknown.
It was the kind of love that keeps you on your toes and out of your mind.
Never before had someone had the power to twist me into a messy rubber band ball of emotions, only to gently straighten me out into flowing musical notes moments later. No mind-altering drug could ever compare to the highs I experienced with him. At times I felt inebriated with giddiness and floated around on puffy, rose-colored clouds, all because of one text message or kiss. I smiled when alone in my room and daydreamed of our curly, golden haired children with moss colored eyes. I melted at his touch, felt sparkles when he broke into his mile-wide grin, and cried when he was hurting.
But Newton wasn't kidding. What goes up must come down. The lows I experienced were the most dismal, dark places I have ever ventured in my life.
It. Was. So. Messed. Up.
But in the most perfect, brilliant, shining way messed up can be. I don’t think I have fully recovered from that burn. It was a white-hot scalding one that reached down into my inner self and seared it all the colors of the rainbow. And you know what? I am glad that burn will never go away. People go their whole lives and never experience that kind of beautiful intensity. I am thankful beyond all reason that I carry such an exquisite battle wound. Sometimes I just want to rip myself open and show it to the world, smiling at people’s horror and jealousy. Maybe one day I will play with that kind of fire again and again I will ride the tidal waves of this boy, this boy who is my mirror image.
I think it’s inevitable.