5 parts of a love story!

One.

A boy and a girl meet. Boy makes friends with girl and invites her to supper. Except for the employees, they speak until they’re the only ones remaining. They drive to the beach and sit on the pier, swinging their feet above the ocean while listening to his music. He observes her gazing carefully out the window towards the sea. He kisses her on the lips.

Two.

Weeks pass. They continue to converse. He describes her as “everything but gorgeous.” He appreciates her photos rather than her appearance. Not her intellect, but her ideas. Hers are the stories, not hers. He admires her in every way, but she is unsure if he likes her. And what about her? She is a firm believer in absolutes, which means she has already fallen in love with him. This is the only way she’s ever learned how to love—completely, wildly, deeply. She’s not sure when she jumped or what prompted her to do so in the first place—whether it was his curly hair, his childish amazement, or the fact that he was sweeter than the honey he was allergic to—but she’s already on her way down.

Three.

What she knows for sure is that she’s pursuing the sensation, and that she sprang when it did as well. She’s also confident that she pursued it down quicker than it dropped. She was a few inches ahead, then a few feet, and finally a few miles. She’s lost track of it now. Despite this, she maintains her goal, arms outstretched, heart throbbing, seeking, hurting. She desires to be loved. She wants the name of love to be his. She doesn’t take a breath.

Four.

This is when the terror sets in. She’s not sure if there’s an oasis underneath her or if there are simply razor edges. She should have given this more thought. She knew she should have, but God, he made it so difficult for her to remain patient. He made her feel as though she had been heard. Was it painful or not? It was not only heard, but it was also seen. He listened to her, was interested in what she had to say, and encouraged her to resume writing. And what a relief it was to be recognised, desired, and cared for.

Five.

She’s completely drowned. She’s still alive, but she’s in a lot of pain. She notices two hands reaching out to her. They are his property. She hangs in there, unsure of what will happen next. They haven’t yet reached that point in the tale. The young lady is terrified. What if he isn’t the right person for you? What if she learnt this lesson too late? What if he attempts to help her but is dragged down by her? Listen. I wish I could dip my toes in the water rather than diving in headfirst. It’s always a gamble since I don’t know how cold or deep the water is, or even whether I remember how to swim. I’m afraid for the day I forget, for the day I dive too deep and can’t climb back up. To put it another way, I’m worried about today. What I mean is that I’m afraid I’ll drown you as well. To put it another way, my heart has become an anchor, and it will only know the depths of this sea. What happens next is entirely up to you.

Next blog will be out soon.
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Desai Thoughts MEdia.

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