The Day I Met Her

I had almost given up when I met her.

The moment we met, I knew she was everything I wasn't and everything I would never be. She wasn't perfect of course, nobody was. But she was enough. I knew I could never reach her no matter how hard I tried because the harder I tried, the further I would be.

The funny thing was, we never would have met if she wasn't who she is. Had she not been outgoing and friendly, she never would have ventured to chat with me. Had she not been caring and generous, she never would have inquired whether I felt fine or not. And I didn't. Because I had been about to give up.

She was a pretty girl, but not gorgeous. Blue eyes framed by golden lashes, never adorned with eyeliner, which seemed to stare deep into the depths of reality. Hair, unruly curls that wouldn't be tamed, so she let it be, taking only a few quick moments to make sure it was presentable. Her delicate nose, a shy too small, and her lips, ever stretched in a smile. Her cheeks, blushing constantly because of happiness and the simple fact that she blushed easily. The bridge of her nose, dusted with the lightest touch of freckles which seemed to disappear from a distance.

The day I met her, I went home wondering if the meeting was a strange yet wonderful dream. But I knew that never, in my wildest dreams, would I be able to dream about something so impossible. But, I guess, the impossible just became possible because of her.

Life was boring before she came along. The initial excitement of discovering the possibilities of life as a child had faded away. Days, weeks, months passed. Friends came and went, leaving only overly bright memories that roused an overwhelming longing in my heart for the times that had past and could never be recovered. I became wary of relationships and avoided them so my heart could perhaps rest for a bit without feeling pain and yearning. But the more I tried, the more it hurt.

Maybe, I thought to myself, maybe I was going about this wrong. Maybe I needed to connect with the world again, let myself get hurt. Perhaps if I kept collecting the overly bright memories of happiness, the light could one day blind me into oblivion.

I tried, I really did. But my hiatus from life had taken its toll. I found I could no longer understand the world that I used to be a part of. I had no experience in accepting because too long had I been refusing and what I could give was not wanted. My attempts to improve it only worsened it; made more apparent the truth that I wanted desperately to change.

It wasn't going to work. I knew it and I loathed it, but it was the truth. Once again, I was about to give up.

But then she came and singlehandedly dragged me out of the deadly trap that I had fallen in. She was understandable and she understood. She gave and she accepted. She created a new light within me that, no matter how much pain it would bring, I would never regret gaining.

Life still isn't perfect. My heart still feels the pain. But at this moment, it's enough to make me forget. She's enough.

Most likely, in the future, we'll part. Promises to keep in touch will gradually slip away into the furthermost recesses of our brains. Memories, lying dormant, will become a faraway dream, too bright to clearly see. We'll continue living our lives separately, making new friends and creating new memories. But I will always remember the day that we met because when I had almost given up, she came and taught me what it was to live again.

Perhaps, one day, I can be to someone else what she was to me.