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My Untouchable Dream
Sometimes she thought she was falling in love with him. Perhaps it was his gentle manner, or his constant compulsion to be in motion. His mind moved with such velocity that shattered all earthly boundaries. His features were sharp and distinct. Sometimes she liked to imagine his strong jawline mirrored the sensibility of his scientific genius.
Around her, he seemed to allow his seemingly impermeable manner to transmute ever so slightly, like a tightly woven basket permitting scattered raindrops to pass through its straws. She felt a divine force compel her to uncover his secrets, his hobbies, his dislikes, and his charming childhood stories. She often wondered what he envisioned, of what exactly was unfolding beneath those often clouded sea green eyes.
She would often attempt to convince herself that her love for him was harmlessly platonic, and despite her mantra-like internal repetitions, she knew all along she was falling in love with him. She was like a moth enticed by a light, yet it was a light of a star that had exploded thousands of years ago. A fragmentary light that was implausibly distant, yet its soft warm glow resulted in a subconscious smile and an acute, sweet ache in her chest. Even though it bothered her, she loved his stubbornness, his outright refusal to abandon his ideas, no matter how absurd they might be.
She was someone who had exquisitely vivid dreams, and she once had a dream that seemed to accompany a light-hearted slumber, yet it transfigured into a nightmare. She was at a dimly lit bar, with a low soundtrack daintily dancing through the smoke filled air, each note dipping and spinning amidst the fog of nicotine. Lanterns were dotted along the walls, and she wondered how such soft light could illuminate such a heart-breaking scene.
There he was, his muscular arms snaked around the slender arched back of an undeniably beautiful woman. Her hair spilled out from the nape of her neck, like the tip of a paintbrush dipped in amber that tragically tumbled and cascaded in a glass of still clam water. He was kissing her, and in between pecks, a grin stained his lips. It was the type of smile that would involuntarily tug at your mouth when you experienced unbridled bliss, the epitome of true happiness.
Even in this self-sustained reverie, the ache in her chest began to spread to every inch of her skin, like lava rolling slowly down a rocky mountain. She did not feel the sting of tears, yet her chest appeared to be heaving as her lungs cried for air.
She woke up. She had suffocated herself in her dream, and as she scanned her surroundings, something became instantly depressing about the natural light she was bathed in. The dream was so terrifying because, like a church bell confirming the hour, it had consolidated the frightening truths she had to confront.
He was beautiful, in every angle of its definition. His kindness, his intelligence, his child-like laugh, the way his small ears possessed a modest curve – all of it was unattainable. He was beautiful, yet she would always remain as a murky reflection of light that danced across pavement after evening rain had fallen. Potentially admirable, yet so highly unnoticeable.
She knew she was not destined to deserve him. She was the thin, erasable line that was etched by a pencil – so disposable and uncertain in its existence. He possessed the vibrancy and determination of ink, an ink so strong and permanent that it would likely stain all it came in contact with a memorable purple for centuries to come.
He was her untouchable dream, like a magnetically beautiful painting locked away in indestructible glass. She would have to fall out of love with him. She would be a terrified passenger leaping from a speeding train that was racing towards an unspoilt utopia. The fall would be excruciating, yet once she rolled over on her back with the soft grass to cushion her and allowed her eyes to dart across the cloud filled sky, perhaps she could recover.
Yet, there was no cure for that disquieting, longing ache that swelled in her chest whenever she saw him. No cure, no man, no life would ever vanquish such an affliction.
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