A Monologue on Love

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Shared by minimalfemale.

Narrator: An adolescent male

When I lie awake in bed I think of everything all at once. I think of the way his eyes smiled but pupils winked as he said he loved me. I can see the way he looked down at his hands when I asked him if he pictured a future of us together. It isn’t difficult to think of everything at once.

But it is overwhelming.

Sometimes I cry, while at others I pretend that we are not truly broken up, but in a state of stillness, and our relationship can be recalled when I am ready.

I could not handle it now. I’m not quite sure how I handled it then. I can complain about how he didn’t treat me right, but what would be the point? Would it even be the truth? Is it simply easier to say that you were treated badly than to admit you were too fragile?

That is the story for some, but it’s not my story, I think.
I hope.

When I lie awake in bed late into the night it’s not so much reason as emotion that prevents my sleep. I imagine his large brown pupils, and the way they seemed to be made up of discs of gold framing a brown centre. People in love always speak about the eyes, and I understand why now. They determine whether a smile is faked, and they will show no signs of happiness if this is so. They are the organs that choose whether to shut off sight while kissing another. They never lie. A poor liar wouldn’t look at another set of eyes. He would never look at me when he spoke of how he felt about me.

I did not expect much. I needed to be told that I was important, and I needed attention. Isn’t that what we all need?

I tell myself that I should be content being alone as I am but I cannot bring myself to happiness. Perhaps it’s too soon to be feeling free of any burden. Maybe I don’t deserve to feel that way. I often overanalyse matters to occupy my time, and give myself something to worry about. If I am not worrying, it seems I should be. If a joyful thought should spring into my mind I move my attention to a thought that hurts me. Being in pain is not enjoyable, but it seems necessary for me to function.

I see him for the entire day, but I don’t see him at all in the night. I miss him when I see him and when I cannot. I’m in love and I’m sure all he wants is my friendship; I know there’s no reason for him to want any more. They say that your first love hurts you the most, and I feel I understand that now. I will never forget him.

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