I Met a Girl I Have to Write About

I met a girl I have to write about. She is gone now, perhaps for good, but I needed to write down the thoughts that have subjugated the time surrounding my sleep. Since I met her, the vast majority of my thoughts have been about her and the vast majority of my actions are attempts to escape thinking about her. The proverbial hooks are strong with this one. Looking back on it, everything about her was surreal.

She was intelligent, even brilliant, almost crazy. She knew of her ability to take on the greatest thinkers in history, which made her slightly conceited but very confident. She was more articulate and persuasive than a university gang leader. Attractive was not the word to use here. Holy hotness does not come close. Everything about her was an intriguing mix. Her face was beautiful and cute, she smelled of jasmine and apple scented cream, her eyes were hazel and blue. Oh. My. God.

On the other side of the conversation is me, insecurities and cigarettes, all of which have doubled in production since I met her. In general, I am confident of myself in most areas, but I am utterly fragile in just a few. And, by some strange stroke of luck or magic, all of these chinks in the armor have been reincarnated from the pages of my journals since meeting her. I have smoked twice since starting this piece. Everything from fear of abandonment, loneliness, failure to establish myself in life, to physical body type has been brought up. I have been terrified, confused, hurt, jealous, happy, ecstatic, and anxious simultaneously, at many times in the day, for weeks. I have not been calm or at peace. I feel like I am getting sick on an amazingly fast rollercoaster and yelling “Slow the fuck down!” as I pass by the control center.

It seems to me that the smartest people in the world are also the most manipulative, and so I am inclined not to trust her. This is a blanket assumption, but I must consider it. One simply cannot know when they are truly being used, especially if one does not care whether they are or not, which I frankly did not. Most likely, I am like every other guy she has met, because from what I have gathered from my friends, being attracted to her is not unique. Intimacy with this girl is practically impossible for me. She shares so much of it, and invites it even more. I fear I would not be unique, and thus, easily abandoned.

Does she have any faults? Absolutely. Perhaps the reader will be relieved to know that I am finally being realistic here. A glimmer of hook sticking out of the bait, maybe? Posted warning signs on the doors and windows? Sure, there are plenty. But she tells me about them. She is honest and vulnerable. I could hurt her if I so desired because she gave me that opportunity. But I am so inspired by her exposure that I only want to protect her. I feel privileged to know her weaknesses, not empowered. I would sooner loose a limb than say a hurtful word or have a selfish response to her. She might be crazy, but she might also be the right type of crazy. An insanity that perfectly fits with mine. Two more cigarettes down.

But let’s be realistic. She is gone now. I am slightly saddened about ever meeting her because of this fact. Like jumping on a large trampoline together, she skyrocketed the degree to which I have since experienced my life. My life since has been both broad and wide, such that I have done so many new things I cannot recall them all and I have done them with such a depth of thought and personal investment that I feel slightly traumatized. It was an amazing experience, and I greatly appreciated having it. Hopefully this is my last thought in the afterglow and I can move on with my life without waiting too anxiously for someone like her to come along again. So, insecurity tells me that she is gone now, probably for good, probably didn’t mean much, probably enjoys the company of many others far more than me. These are not entirely true, but I must mention them, because they are part of working through fears to openly and confidently enjoy life. There is little left to do and I am indeed left with some great memories.