His mind rummaging through his memories, trying to find something that isn’t there.
His hands trembles; his breathing is uneasy.
He slowly opens his eyes,
and for the first time, accepts the truth: he is being played.
It was a school trip to the local zoo, when he really noticed her for the first time. Or, as he knew now, she was the one who noticed him first. They hit it off instantly, and this went on for months.
He was head over heels for her, because he thought that she was the only one who could understand him completely, and she was the only one who could make him laugh.
He could listen to her all day, talking about the most random things in life
that never excited him, but the way she spoke made him hung on to her every
word like he depended on it.
She was his first true love.
Tom did everything couples do, taking her to watch her favorite movie, sharing his favorite restaurants, surprising her during classes and spending all his free time thinking about her.
She was so perfect that he couldn’t see past the thin veil
of soiled glass that was starting to crack, and it was too late.
He can feel his pulse rising again at the thought of her, this time in wrath.
She never loved him for who he was, she was not even in love the whole time!
He blames himself for believing the delusions of love, of trusting without doubt and being vulnerable without shame.
But now, all he feels is overwhelming shame.
All along, that trust is built from cheap
wood and a canvas of sweet vulnerability is placed on top, showing him a
tailored version of the word ‘Perfect’ just for him.
He wants to take back all the time, money, movie tickets, assignments answers and part of himself that he has given to her for free. Tom wants to scream and cry. He clenches his trembling fists tight, and curses for the whole world to hear.
The rage calms him down, and he weeps in silence.
This time, he weeps for her.
He sympathizes her, a soul that never cares to step into the rays of the Sun, but prefers to hang a portrait of a Vergina Sun, and bathe under the warmth of a street lamp.
He feels sorry for her,
because to her, Love is about giving and taking until someone runs out of things
to give, nothing more than that.
Tom steps out of his car, and an icy wind wipes off his tears.
He slams the door hard, enough to jot him wide awake. He has gone through the most painful betrayal, and like many others, his trust has been broken forever, and he vows to be wary and cautious of everyone.
As for love, he believes he haven’t met Love itself yet, the kind of Love that he dreamt about is out there, and it is waiting for him to come.
He is sure about it.