I’m perverse. You always knew, but I’m saying it.

My chest was invaded by pieces ever-expanding shards of ice. What was happening to me? I considered that a long shower would calm me down.

My invader liquefied into a thick hot stream of satin which coursed my arteries till my heart realized it was drowning in adrenalin. I felt so hot, unstable, and dizzy that the wall that protected my naked body from the outside quickly became a mother’s embrace while my shower head continued to rain on me. I tried catching my breath; I say I tried because I only got worse.

I relinquished myself to my veiled invader, not knowing what it was that made me concede. I concluded that I was longing for someone. Why? I thought. I don’t know why, but I wanted it. Of all the people I’ve been with, fell in love with, kissed with, held hands with, gazed eyes with, caught scent with, touched skins with, and shared silence with, there was only one in my mind. I had an unnatural desire to have her.

My synapses sparked for her when I had seconds for myself. This time was different; she just wouldn’t disappear from my head.

I remember the first time I saw her. She was a late addition to the school. I was just minding my business with one of the teachers, then I caught sight of this petite girl coming in, in casual clothes. Fresh meat. I thought, as I stroked my tongue against my canine teeth. As the curious person that I was, I crept up to her. Underneath the baseball cap she wore to cover-up her long and tousled brown hair, were a pair of the most fantastic eyes I had ever seen. Parting those hypnotising eyes was a beautiful bridged nose, and below that were a pair of lips that made me lick and smack my own when I looked at them for too long.

Her face was incredibly bewitching. I don’t know how many times men have told her that, but she was impeccably beautiful that the world would literally stop just to see her tuck her hair behind those God-made appendages she calls ears or wipe a bit of sweat that cradles itself on those supple collar-bones.

After I saw what hidden treasure her cap had preserved from the world, her body stole my full attention. I didn’t care much for bust size since her tiny waist and mouth-watering rump draws minds away from those I’d-cup-them-from-behind-while-I-drink-in-your-scent breasts. And your legs, my God, your legs…

That was what she did to me on her first day. I can’t even begin to imagine what she does to men that see her on a regular basis. Maybe they’re used it? I know I never was.

When she told me she was half Japanese, I knew from then on, I had to stay away from her. She was the complete embodiment of what I wanted in bed at night, and that to me was extremely dangerous. But she dragged me in, like how a fat and sweaty nerd is drawn to an all-stuffed crust pizza and a Princess Leia cosplayer.

As I continued to let water drip from my head, I asked myself, how on earth could we be friends? She once asked me why we never dated. I couldn’t bring myself to give her the full answer, but I still wanted her to know a part of the truth. I said to her that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with her. She does so many things at the same time, enjoying life at its very fullest as early as possible.

I loved that part of her. I also completely despised it. She reminded me so much of my younger self, and I detested that part of my life. How she lived her life is what I was trying avoid. Sometimes, I thought she had changed. When she told me that I ‘opened her eyes,’ I felt glad. But she took a step back from the sweet Sun after stepping out of that world she lived in.

I hated that she smoked but I loved the smell of cigarettes and cannabis that seeped from her skin. It made my eyes roll back inside my head while I swallowed every molecule she gave off, leaving none to spare. I hated that she dressed so loosely. I can’t remember how many times I’ve seen her underwear and her Goddamn skin. It tempted me so much to push her against the wall with her hands tied with mine, rip every bit of fabric off and just taste every inch. If I hadn’t become a Buddhist, I wouldn’t know what I would do.

Now that’s the two-part truth. Each time I wrote her something, I had to lessen my emotions to a close-friend level. It tasted like poison each time I had to hold myself back.

Fuck you. I love you. But fuck you, you mess me up.

[Originally written on October 26, 2013]

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s