Propinquity.

Truth transforms, it changes, and most of the time we change right along with it. I still remember our early dates as if they were yesterday, we felt so right for each other. I remember the exhilaration I felt when your hand brushed mine and the electrifying thrill behind a simple text message. I honestly thought we would last forever. But now you’re with him and I’m left with the memories of those days. Maybe my brain has distorted those recollections to produce an entity so unreal that’s actually beautiful.

I recite a silent soliloquy of tormented afflictions every time I meet my eyes in a mirror, I can still feel the guilt over the mistakes I made and the ones I was to afraid to commit. How I wish I’d made them!

I don’t love you anymore, but I still wonder about those forces at play that made us snap so violently. I try to understand the reasons why our bodies lied to us, why they let us picture a perfect possibility of commitment when in reality we were just too different. Science teaches us that opposites attract, but the distance between those two objects also plays a part in the equation. Maybe we were too far away for that electrical attraction to stick, maybe we were too different. I choose to believe that we fell in love because we were meant to, not because of statistics and geography.

I can see how much alike you two are, how perfect for each other. I can see that and I’m honestly happy for it. It gives me hope to see that the universe still works, and that it still has the power to bring two people that are meant for each other together, against all odds.

But seeing that makes me question the power behind true love. What if you were born in a different country, under a different culture and a varying upbringing? What if you’d liked different things and hated things you now love about him? I wonder if romance would’ve survived and thrived despite all those different variables?

Maybe, just maybe, there is some truth behind the veracity of propinquity. The theory of propinquity states that the similarity in nature between two beings intensifies the possibility to create a bond. I have seen it happen way too often for me to attribute it to chance. If we are to believe in that theory, then our dating pool is significantly reduced, but those that remain represent the possibility of finding something true and long-lasting.

I’m not saying that two people from different backgrounds can’t fall in love, I’m just saying it’s harder for lust to transform into life-commitment under those circumstances.

If I’d known this then, maybe I would’ve done things differently, maybe I would’ve addressed the pressing conflicts that we ignored for months because we were to focused on the petty things. We were young, and the emotional price of youth is rarely affordable.

I don’t love you anymore, but I’m still in love with what we had, with that naïve hope of things that could’ve happened at the beginning, with the possibility of loving you until the end of time. I can’t let go of that feeling, because I’m terrified that I won’t find it again.

I’m frightened to let myself try to find that bliss again, not because I remain hopeful that we’ll get back together, but because I haven’t felt that electric spark that I felt with you with anyone else. Perhaps it was my young gullibility and my excessive research on the subject that made me believe that what we had was true. I remember how I truly had difficulty breathing before our first kiss and how surreal life felt on its aftermath. I felt that our love was too big for this world, when in reality I was probably in shock of how good it felt.

I remember how we lost ourselves when our lips touched, how our bodies entered into complete anarchy and the rest of the world turned into a blur of annoyance.

I wonder if you feel that surge of adrenaline when he kisses you, or if it’s a different feeling, if it’s safe and controlled and if the world around you is something that you feel present and a part of. I want to know if maturity changes that feeling of physical intoxication into something restricted and smart.

I’d rather go down in flames than settle for something less than what we had. I don’t care if it was irresponsible and reckless, because it was beautiful and now I’m addicted to that feeling of emotional instability.

I need to find someone that will make me lose my head and take me into an emotional roller-coaster that will make me feel alive. I don’t want safe and proper, I want wild and passionate. I won’t settle for less, because monotony will be the end of me.

I want to know if he infuriates you as I did, if he’s able to wake up those waves of passionate anger that subdued only with the power of my touch. We were so different, and that’s what made us irresistibly explosive.

The distance between what was and what could’ve been varies depending on the memories I summon. I know we probably would’ve never made it, because we lacked the maturity to change from the lane of passion into the lane of everlasting commitment.

Maybe I’m holding on to something impossible, but I am way too damaged to accept anything less. I don’t hold you responsible for my inability to fall in love, that’s all me and the thousands of bad decisions I’ve made along the way, but I do resent your reluctance to keep on fighting when things turned really ugly.

You deserve everything good in the world, and I hope he has the capacity to give them to you. I really hope that what you have is as passionate as you deserve, because even if what made you go steady with him is everything I lack, you deserve more fire than what we once had.

I wish for me the same things you have accomplished, but only in the scenario that you have stayed true to yourself, and inevitably I yearn for something new that I have never had, but that statistically I will find.

I will find peace in the fire of seduction, and I will try my best to keep that fire alive once I find it, and I’m sure that you’ll smile when you see me thrive.

Author's Note

Again, I know it's not a poem, but I don't know what category to choose.
English is not my first language, so there might be something off in the grammar.