Sitting in a dim room, early on in a late night. So hard not to stare as she dances, the sheer beauty mesmerizing me. And not in some perverse or arousing way. Just beauty. That feeling one gets as they gaze upon the gorgeous hues trailing the old sun as it sinks over a distant mountain. The simple and absolute. Her long hair swaying and slender body moving with the music. It’s the basic female form paired with the amazing personality which I know it holds. I’m not one to be tantalized by over-developed curvature. No, I prefer the simplistic, gentle wave of the form.
Remembering a time long ago when this seemed a possibility, separated then by the same barrier I was experiencing now: Air and my own insecurity. I felt such a longing to dance, that all it would take is to lift myself from my chair and take a single step forward, to speak, just to say how I’ve missed her presence in my life for so long.
And it makes me feel like a stalker. That I think these thoughts. That I feel sorrow in knowing I won’t be the one. That I can’t dance with her. Cannot converse on the most trivial and important things in the universe with her. Cannot lay in my loft bed late at night talking of how good a friend she is and how I adore what we have and wish it were more. Longing again for those late nights texting or just feeling a bit happier after seeing her bright smiling face. Thinking maybe I could have been the one. Maybe I could have prevented heartache. Knowing even more so that I’m not good enough. That I never will be. Crushing the image of laying in the bed playing with her curly locks as she reads aloud to me from something I may hardly understand. Basking in the thought that for once I have someone whose vocabulary and literary knowledge is greater than my own.
Dreaming that if this were a waltz or some ballroom step in which I am actually well versed I could take her hand and whisk her away. That I’d have courage if only I didn’t feel like a fool for not knowing any of these ‘dances’ in which most everyone was participating. Knowing though, that I’ll never actually tell her any of this, despite the deep burning desire I feel.
And all of this went through my head in 15 seconds as I watched her dance. Keeping her at arm’s length. I went through my night. Never speaking a word. Avoiding eye contact; Fearing she may see straight into my soul. Knowing it hurts far less to simply know that I’m inadequate than to have someone so amazing reassure me of that fact.
I’ll admit. As may be inferred. I did feel a flutter in my chest upon my realization that she was there. Aware that I almost skipped this night altogether to stay at home by myself and that could have made all the difference. I wouldn’t be having these thoughts if I’d chosen not to go. Wouldn’t have experienced any of these feelings. And I’ve yet to decided what I’d do differently if I had it all to do over again.
My guess is.. I’d stay at arm’s length. And do nothing at all.
adarkspot 