Today is a special day. So special that I even took the day off from work, locked my door so no one would bother me, and even prepared and packed my food long in advance. You could even call it a date.
We’ve been together for a few years now, but I think that’s mostly in my head. It’s his fault I skip work so often and that I’m barely able to catch up on my readings.
His skin is so deliciously sweet, and his hair is fluffy like a cloud of cotton candy. His eyes are shaped like almonds, and they become warm and spellbinding when he smiles. But above it all, it’s his goodness that lures me in.
He’s charming and funny, the words that he speaks talk volumes of his intelligence. Sometimes it scares me; the intensity of my love numbs my rationale and I give in to all his traps.
But he never responds to my calls or messages. I can’t blame him, he’s a busy man. Often I write him letters and have them delivered to this home; sometimes I even bake the cupcakes that he’s so fond of, the ones with the chocolate icing and crunchy nuts. I’ll send him pictures of it, accompanied by a flirty little note.
I decided to customize him a special gift for his birthday and had a t-shirt printed of the both of us. It’s my favourite picture of him, wearing mittens and a woollen scarf, and there’s me next to him, smiling at him with a twinkle in my eye.
I keep my phone by my side in case I miss anything important, it is a special day after all. I ignore phone calls and messages from my friends, I can’t afford to get distracted.
Sometimes people tell me my love for him is a bit animated, even obsessive. That he doesn’t love me as much as I do, and I should probably consider something more real. But it’s so addicting and I can’t get him out of my head. If you get butterflies in your stomach after all these years, and still blush at a notification that pops up from him, isn’t that a young, all-consuming love?
He told me to love love, but told me to love myself first. He’s given a hundred million speeches to me about loving yourself through difficult times and told me to use him to feel happy. To wake up every morning and have something to look forward to. And that’s it for me, he’s my reason to wake up every morning, despite all that the other say; they’re probably envious of the power of our love.
I switch on the computer and close my eyes for a second to calm my nerves. I’m finally going to see him after so long.
The screen lights up with colours, and there he stands with a microphone in his hands, and the rest of his team by his side. I trace the outline of his figure with my trembling finger and come closer to kiss the screen.
To me, he’s the only one that exists, but for him, I’m just one of the screaming girls lined up to click a picture.