Love and Turmoil

I Refuse to Be Consumed — Pt.2

True Love Manifests In Extraordinary Way

True Love

She fears I intend to abduct and — or— murder her, expects me there, prowling in the shadows, watching her about her quotidian life. She didn’t say she was afraid, only that she suspects these things from me. It was… either suspicion or expectation, it escapes me.

Fair enough — I have that kind of time on my hands! But I’d never go so far; I still have a busy life, and not even a car!!

And I’m not a monster.

To be honest, I don’t know if she was joking.

The Current Situation

We haven’t spoken in a couple of days.

She did tell me to stop.

I understood where she was coming from; I’d gotten overly doting, texting her too much.

The day before, I’d sent seven consecutive screens of texts as she slept.

It was all over the place— and I lie, there were nine.

Nine screens of texts sent as she slept.

She claims to enjoy re-reading what I send her, so maybe it could have been getting too time consuming? Or she could have been with the new boyfriend. I know she doesn’t turn off her notification volume, which could become risky.

He doesn’t know much about me.

I think he should know, but only because I’m confident he wouldn’t be a threat to her.

When next we speak, I’ll let her know she can pass him my address, if ever necessary. After all, long distance mobility is one of my greatest weaknesses at this time.

Either way, she never mentioned plans to see him that night.

I know at some point I’m supposed to send her a lonely and well-behaved ‘hey’ or something. We’ll see how it goes.

I’ve been lying to her, exaggerating about how much I miss her and the like. Realistically, I don’t miss people, it’s just something I learned they appreciate hearing. Anyway, it barely matters, and I do think of her constantly.

I definitely overdid it this time; we live and we learn.

I still need to tell her how the other day I only pretended to be jealous of the other guy. I don’t know why I did it; I guess I wanted my feelings to be taken more seriously.

Apparently, it’s unconvincing that you love someone with all your soul unless you can’t accept anyone else making them happy. Well, I can’t be there for her in full right now, and I’m ecstatic for her to have company in these difficult times.

He isn’t even right for her. He just treats her well. Someday, she’ll break his heart.

I seriously feel for the guy.

Either way, she isn’t doing very well right now, and I’m sick to the stomach not knowing how she’s coping. She needs me to be a friend again. As such, I’m a completely different person.

Once Upon A Time

We dated once, only for a couple of months.

It was summer; we met in the great, secluded Rocky Mountains of Western Canada. We worked together in the kitchen of a small resort, and spent much time alone with one another, mostly getting drunk, high, and hiking in the woods. As a note: I never harmed her, and never plan to. Not unless she’s crystal clear about what I need to do.

In such a case, my stomach could have to adjust.

I left when we became too overly attached to one another. It was a tough conversation to have; I was on a train for three days, she’d even brought up babies, and the reception would be lost for hours at a time.

We were a mess.

Now

I can’t tell if I’m right or wrong to give her space. There are too many factors to be considered. I know she told me to stop, but I feel wrong to back off all the same. It bothers her we don’t fight. I’ve tried to engage— I just don’t want to start ███████ ██ ███ ███ ███ ██ ██████ ███ █ ████ ██ ████ ██ ████ ██████ ██████ ███ ██████ ████ ███████ ████████

I’m yet unpractised at normal — what I like to call “Hollywood learned” — arguing. I’ll generally do my best to keep things based on principle and logic, or I’ll shut up.

Besides, I’m consistently misunderstood.

She just deleted some of her social media accounts. It’s okay, I had already scoured them all, and learned a good amount more about her. Mainly, what I found greatly magnified my love for her.

I told her of my fantasy to take her with me someday, far away to a solitary place, to have her all to myself.

She says I don’t own her. But— not even if she owned me back? I hate the concept of marriage, but I’d do anything for her. She might want to elope, I read that earlier today.

None of it makes any sense, but I swear it’s going somewhere.

We just need to stick things through.

The Funny Thing

Why had I put so much time and energy into the idea of remaining forever single?

I initially met her just as I’d started taking the loner mentality seriously. It was an odd summer; I only intended to profusely sleep around, something that was new — and quickly became old — to me.

But I was happy.

Now, everything is in turmoil. I feel unwilling to flip the switch another time, unless it’s the last.

Oh please, let it be the last.

Moving Forward

She’s a better writer than I. Once, I mentioned it’d be cool to have a joint author’s account somewhere, figuring the activity would be fun and healthy for us as a couple.

One day it seems I’ll have to beg for it.

In all cases, I need to pick up the pace, and take matters fully into my own hands. Hopefully, she’ll forgive me for anything that fucks up along the way.

It’ll be interesting.

Final Notes

Is this story true? Yes.

Did I add a tinge of colour for theatrical purposes? Barely.

Is there vital information missing? Always.

Do I angle things for a a pinch of suspense? I— don’t know!

Will I hurt her? If so, not irreparably.

February 25th, 2023 UPDATE--
More than a year later, we made up,
still never to speak 
again.

It pisses her off to hear me speak of living for three hundred years. I tried explaining the number will never change, that there’ll always be three hundred years to go.

This, unsurprisingly, didn’t help.

Though, I wasn’t kidding.

Like, at all.

Unless someone goes out of their way to prove me wrong, I think I can do it.

February 25th, 2023 UPDATE--
More than a year later, I'm
comfortable with
death.

Next in the series—

Or, start from the beginning—

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So pleased to present you 1 of Be Open Golden Stories created by: Ben Chuks

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