Hit me like a ray of sun.
Burning through my darkest night
You're the only one that I want
Think I'm addicted to your light
I swore I'd never fall again
But this don't even feel like falling
Gravity can't forget
So pull me back to the ground again
Beyonce- Halo
You were my rebound. You transformed the futility in me back into fertility. You reinvigorated me while I was rickety. Your wizardly staff somehow salvaged me from the sand of jeopardy. Your ambrosial potion cured me from the poison of agony. Your argentiferous cloak covered me from the ice of calamity.
I would not have survived the past few months if not because of you. You made the sun warm and the sea tranquil. You mesmerized me at dawns and tantalized me at nights. Your saccharine goodnights never failed to take me to the rivers of fantasy and the garden of felicity. I had never failed to carve a smile of harmony on my face each time your texts reached me.
I did not know much about you before the final semester began. I only knew your last name and considered it enough. I thought your existence was a total insignificance. I thought you were just a redundant addition to your small clique. I thought you did not deserve my precious glance. I thought I did not have any reason to know you deeper. I thought saying ‘hai’ to you would be more than enough. I thought you did not have the influence that a guy should have. I thought you were one of those living failures who could not philosophize. I thought you were nothing. I was thoroughgoingly wrong.<br /><br /><br />It all began on a normal class day. People could not find their seats and the lecturer could not switch on the projector. Everyone was busy with their own matters; I was not excluded. I was totally engulfed in a conversation with my friends and never anticipated that you would give me a stunning impression. I was completely unprepared when you walked in the front row. You were as sharp as a saber and as shiny as a diamond.
Like a Picasso work, you blew my mind away. You thinned the border between me and my imaginary world. Your white color short-sleeved shirt and black pants functioned beyond needed. They somehow got my tongue frozen and fingers stoned. Classily and exclusively, you walked into the classroom like a European aristocrat. You gave me a sense of petrifaction. You channeled into me the irresistible charm that none of my friends could even possess. You were my heartthrob of the day.
You refused to sit next to me when invited. You told me I seemed quite too studious in your beautiful blue eyes. You told me my thick notes and overhighlighted books made you find yourself inferior. I was quite offended. I had never got offended this easily. People called me nerd, geek, and bookworm, but I could not give a damn about them, but this time, with you, it was different. I felt something clandestine. I could not accept that you were unpleased by me.
Nothing exfoliated until we both joined the boring trip to the abandoned war site. I was with my best friend that time, but my eyes were not. They were with you- your alabaster skin, your tempering eyebrows, your serene face, and your manful shoulders. After one hour, we finally arrived at the destination. We were asked to tell the group our personal stories of wars. Never had I expected that you would conclude the session with a tragic story; you lost your dad, fifteen years ago, to a gun. This made me crazy over you. This made me want to know you more.
A week later, I decided to participate in a singing competition. Despite my mediocre talent and limited vocal range, I insisted on trying. People were overcrowding the hall. I saw a lot of people supporting me, but focused my radar and lenses on you. I seriously wanted you to be there. I shivered for two minutes before I saw you. I thought I could not perform in front of them. I was wrong. You were there, standing in the last row of audience, with a self-made t-shirt, “Sarah, We Love You”. I was thrilled. My performance became a spectacle.
I took your breath away. You told me my performance was a massive success. You told me you were shocked when I threw my guitar away and did the headbangings. You thought I was a meekish nerd who only knew how to sing gospels and play country music on piano. I did not care much on the typical comments. I was so into the ‘inspiring’ part. You told me I was inspiring. It took me to the summit of rapture and the nadir of lugubriousness. It had always been my dream to be the inspiration of someone. When you said so, it transcended me to a level that I thought otherworldly.
You found some of my English essays on my desk. Motivated by the ghost of naughtiness ,you actually stole and read them. Thank god, they were not erotic and self-revealing, so I was not mad at you. My ways of writing were ravishing in your eyes. You told me I should not major in Psychology. You told me I should try English Literature. Again, you said I was inspiring. After received permission from me, you proudly posted my essays online. They became sensational hits. Thanks to you, I morphed into a renowned author once. People suddenly recognized my ability to write well. I never expected that this would happen in my college life. Flowers of likings started to blossom and branches of interests began to burgeon. I started having coquettish feelings for you.
After that, we never failed to update each other about our ongoing lives. We talked on the phone, added each other on Facebook and Windows Live Messenger, and met up all the chances we had. I spammed your inbox like a typhoon. My rates of replies were unbelievably fast. I could not believe that I could neglect my works just for you, a guy who had never been significant for me. Facebook was one thing. MSN was the other. I had no idea why I could be constantly patient chatting with you 5 hours non-stop every day. This was for real. You never forgot to make my sleeps heavenly with your enchanting goodnights. You told me you needed to brush your teeth before sleeping. You, being you, never forgot conventionalities. I could not pay much attention on the cleanliness of my body before I slept, even after you reminded me. As long as I felt well, everything was summertime for me.
Sometimes we avoided laptops to focus on our studies. Nevertheless, that did not stop us from contacting each other. We went for another option- texting. I texted you each five minutes and received your replies after one. You never eschewed me from doing so. You strictly reminded me that I was not disturbing you. You were indeed pleased by my flood of SMS’s. I had no idea how I could text a guy that I did not have any relationship with more than 200 times a week. We replied each other with inspirational words, originally from us. We imitated Confucius in the best way possible and used all those nature-based vocabularies that we found spirit-boosting. We were somehow having good time together reading each others’ texts. To be honest, I never liked texting. It was very demanding for me until I met you. I did not know whether I honored you or liked you. But one thing I was sure of was, I had never felt lazy to reply you.
I was shocked that all of my close friends were taken by my classmates for the psychology project. I had to choose you as my last resort. I thought I was unlucky, but boy, I was wrong. You were the best subject that an experimenter could imagine. You gave me more than the required responses. I got to know you better. I realized that you were not a bouquet of roses. You were actually a garden of godly sakura. Your background was amazing. The way you valued family and friendship impressed me. I never deeply apprehended the values of family before. I only knew how to wait for their money to fall onto my greedy and self-conscious hands. You told me your father was not around when you were growing up. You told me it had some malicious impacts on you. I never thought of it before. I thought everyone could be equally normal even if both of their parents were not around. I was naïve.
Then, you told me how growing up as a middle child had affected your life. You proved me that Adler was right. You proved me that middle children tended to work harder to trample their siblings. They tended to prove their superiority over their siblings to their parents. After that, your personality test vindicated you from being accused emotional. You indeed had the strong characteristics that I admired- more rational and less emotional.
Next, the first time I entered your room, I was stunned by it. Your room was somehow extraordinarily neat. It looked as if it was decorated by some ladies-in-waiting. I could not even see a single wrinkle on the bed sheet. Everything, including the old newspaper, was set sturdy. I could not feel any dust on my feet. It was indeed not a room for guys. It was a mirage in the desert, almost like a fata morgana. I noticed that your choices of songs were very classic. Trisha Yearwood’s How Do I Live topped the chart of your playlist along with George Benson’s Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love for You. I teased you for that at first, before adapting into the same path. I couldnt’t believe that I played all those oldies more than twenty times when I was alone in my room. I thought I had always been a mainstream person. I guessed I was wrong.
The psychology project was indeed my ticket into your museum. You were like a capacious museum that offered historical scrolls and religious texts. You were priceless. I was so motivated to go to each of its corner. I asked for your personal history with the excuse that it was required. I persuaded you to tell me all the deep memories that built you. I believed I was not professionally driven as I thought. It was more personally inspired.
Then there was this evening. I was innocently asking for extra information about you. You invited me to your room. You said it was fine for me to come in. Like an obedient daughter to her dad, I trusted your words. The moment I knocked the door was bewildering. You did not open it. Then I tried it over again. It was only your left hand that showed up. You gave me the no signal. I was voluminously discombobulated. You were the one who asked me to come to your room but you did not let me in. It was not more than five minutes before that you said you were fine. Then you asked me to come again later, in such a horrible and rueful tone. I was strangely interested to know what happened to you. I returned to my room and kept nudging your MSN window. Just so you know, I did not nudge people anymore, except this time, to know what had happened to you. I told you, I would have lied if I said I won’t be worried about you.
Thank God my vexing persistence was answered. You started telling me the story behind it. You confided in me that you cried. I could not believe it at first but you convinced me that it was what really happening. You told me your friend’s father just passed away. You were closed with the guy so you found his passing personal. For me, who never empathized with others, I was relatively impressed. Never had I thought that a guy could possibly cry that deeply, in such a heart-wrenching emotion. You told me the man who passed away taught you how to ride a bicycle. You told me he taught you how to fix a kite. You told me he taught you how to write in Chinese calligraphy. You told me he replaced your father’s place after his sudden leave. You taught me something that time. A guy can be more masculine when he cried.
It was only three days left for me to submit my report to the lecturer. I was panicked. I thought there was no way I could possibly finish the personality assignment in time. God really proved me wrong. I overtly exceeded the minimum page requirement. The class was asked to write at least 10 pages but I wrote 40. I knew it was sudden. I could not believe that my flow of thought just erupted like lava from volcanoes. I even finished my work two days before the dateline. The motivation was a mystery. The flood of ideas was engrossing. This whole writing about you thing did not cause me much problem. It seemed like I had known you too much.
The report required me to write about some negative aspects of yours, to find the balance in your personality. I did, but in a very good way. Every bad characteristic you had was presented in positively structured manners. I did not let any negative elements of yours leak to my lecturer’s apprehension directly. I put your virtues highly like virginity. I did not want anyone to think of you as a bad guy. I wanted him to think of you as an angel; the angel that flew all over the world to spread the blessings of God. I defied any facts that described you as a devil; not even the one that disturbed people’s sleep. I never let you be seen as a bad person. Not even once. In the end, I was happy that you liked my report. It mattered more than my lecturer’s overwhelming feedback.
I thought it had ended before it even began to start. I thought our chemistry was bound to the assignment that I assigned you as my subject. I thought you would not feel pleased to tell me about yourself once the project had been submitted. I was wrong. You still came to my room to pay for your uninvited visits. I did not invite you to come in, but that did not mean I was not pleased by your presence. I transcendentally enjoyed your visits. I was somehow extremely lonely in my room at nights and you somehow fulfilled the emptiness that I had. At first, you visited me, then the following nights I visited you. We conspicuously were not satisfied by the boundaries that computers had limited us. We preferred real-life conversations. Indeed. It did not matter whether we had already talked online for six hours. We would still spend another two or three hours talking about nonsense. I somehow enjoyed your company. Everything was merely platonic until you accidentally stumbled upon me when you wanted to enter my room.
You fell onto me. I did not think you had hurt me. Not even a bit. It was more blissful than painful. My breasts may not have a brain to decipher the sensuousness of your chest overburdening them, but I did. It was at the best measurement. Your chest had the most proper weight. It was precisely measured by God. I was mirthful. You fell onto me like a warm cashmere blanket. You turned the desiccating summer in me into a breezy fall. Then our lips clashed. We stared at each other like two innocent children. I was vacuumed into you and you were vacuumed into me. It was a definite equilibrium. Then I nervously grabbed your head to give me a force to stand up but it was to no avail.
Our lips, cheeks, and necks could not keep themselves apart. They rubbed each other more rapidly. Senses of stimuli started to overwhelm. I straightaway pulled your head tightly to mine. You unreasonably did the same thing. We were still on the floor with the door open. We rolled all over the floor like two pristine serpents trying to be united for divine powers; shamelessly. You smooched all over my face as I did yours. We started biting each others’ fresh flesh like newborn vampires. Then I tore your shirt apart and you began to realize that the door was open. You took a second to close it before jumping back onto me.
You dragged me to my bed with all your animalistic force. You did not hesitate to pull away the comforter, pillows, and bed sheet. You told me the fabrics did not suit your skin. I conformed in passion. I was like a sweet satan child, I only cared to be united with you, to be a part of the majesty of humankind. I could not resist the scene of scintillating sphere that wrapped you like a golden ball. You caressed my neck and breathed out the air of pleasure around it. Your hand was sweating but the liquid was a blessing. I fathomed the excitement that engrossed you. I was frail, bulldozed by your lances of intimacy, but still able to fathom it. Your mild touches around my waist were the best physiotherapy that I had ever experienced. You entangled me with your strong legs, making sure that I did not move much to restrain your upcoming rupturing force. I was anticipating for that and I knew you knew it.
You tore my pants apart and started loosening up yours. I already felt the cervix part of yours that I aspired to experience. I wanted it to function in me as soon as possible;in the gentlest and rudest ways all in one. Before you were about to scoop me with your holy wand, you suddenly stopped. You told me we had gone too much. We had transgressed the religious boundaries and cultural norms. You did not like the feelings. You felt guilty.
I was fine with your decision to not make love. You were an orthodox guy and I was a heterodox girl. I could not force you to change your values just for me. I would not feel right to do so. The following days were little bit awkward at first. I did not talk to you with my eyes straight. I saw you blushing each time you walked next to me. You were not the one night stand type. You took intimacy seriously. After the complicated relationships that I had in the past, I did not believe in the significance behind sex. Sex was sex. It could be from six pm to six am, but it would always be sex.
I considered you my spring fling. I did not put much hope on you. Nevertheless, everything turned upside down when I received some negative comments from my lecturer on my assignment. He told me my group did not reflect just and cooperation on the paperwork. The worst part was, all of the mistakes were caused by my group mates, not me. I somehow lost marks for things that I did not cause. This really tested me to remain composed in public. Then I texted you, you did not reply me. I heard you had a horrible day as well, and that was why you did not attend the class. You rejected my phone calls. You got my brain exploded. I was beyond pissed off.
You were putting acid all over my bleached, scarred skin. You withered my dehydrated brain. You soaked me into an icy lake naked. I basically hated you when you did not reply my texts, especially on this kind of hard day. I returned to my room, played rock songs extremely loudly, put obscene remarks on my MSN personal message, and ignored everyone who asked why. I slept for the whole evening till midnight. Then, your online and text messages woke me up. Yes, there were messages. You asked me a few times why I put such a rude personal message online. I could not be bothered to answer. I was bedazzled by your bright light of attention.
I did not plan to elaborate much on how things ended between us. It was ambivalent, swift, and indefinite. We had never been official. I just liked the way it went between us. You were sweet to me and I was sweet to you. After the long semester break, it was quite hard and dissatisfying for me to contact you. You had always been busy and did not know what kinds of environments that I was in. I did not want to appear weak in front of you by calling you every day from a far distance.
After a few months, we met again in a gathering and everything seemed awkward. I no longer felt the same way to you. I also realized that you had much resemblance with my previous lover. I did not want that to happen. I did not want transference to occur between my new crush and him. I hated the feelings when it happened. Then I also noticed that I had never loved you. I believed I only liked you, and I knew it was not enough. Yes, I liked you. You were indeed my spring fling.
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