AcetheticallyPleasing

United States

Asexual || Dreamer || Hufflepuff
Hopeless romantic dreaming to find her true love
Songs || Stories || Poems
In love with two people, plus someone who can never be mine.

Message to Readers

Please tell me about any suggestions you have for this! I've had this idea for a while now, and I think I'm going to pursue it here as a longer story, a chapter by chapter kind of thing. Consider this a sneak peek, I guess? A prototype? Lol

Hopeless (A)romantic

November 6, 2019

Platonic love is the only love I know. Romantic love is beyond my understanding. 
    I find myself with mixed emotions yet again. My heart flutters as I recollect my fantasy of finally meeting that special someone and being able to love them with everything I have. My heart quivers as I wallow in the fact that even after seventeen years of being alive, I haven't felt this way for anyone, and perhaps I never will. 
    So many songs, in general, are about love. I couldn't get away from it if I tried. Why would I try? I'd give anything to know what it feels like. Romance is such a cute thing. Dancing in the moonlight, cuddling under four blankets, squeezing someone's hand three times, I'm a sucker for it all. I find myself constantly wondering how I feel about people. It always returns to the weird question of, "do I like you, or do I just like you?" My Google search history is full of things like "how to tell if you're in love" and "do I like him as more than a friend", but even with all of the responses I've gotten, nothing proves helpful. I still hold hands and cuddle with my best friends. I blush when guys tease me. I love myself enough to get a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I have all the boxes checked, but aren't I supposed to feel something? 
    There's a specific feeling everyone talks about when they're in love. All the descriptions are different, but they're the same as well. Some describe the feeling of electricity when their lovers touch them, but as a touch-starved girl from North America, I feel that way when anyone touches me. Some explain how their hearts just can't stop racing when they're around the one they love, but I constantly feel that way out of social anxiety. Some say that you simply know when you know, and obviously, that's no help to me.
    My basement, better known as my "den". Four wooden walls, a refrigerator, three couches, and all sorts of game consoles. My best friend returns to his spot next to me on the couch after leaving the upstairs. My eyes close as my head rests on his shoulders, slipping away from the tired reality. My mind conjures up a dream, a dream I've had for as long as I can remember. Me and another person, alone in a room, waltzing to music only I can hear. Each time, the person is different. Sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl. Sometimes they have freckles and sometimes they have curly hair. Within the moment, I'm dancing with my best friend. He knows what romantic love feels like. Kier's eyes look down at mine with an appreciation I've seen a hundred times, confessing his feelings for me without making a sound. His red hair bounces softly as we move. I feel like a character in a movie. The music plays softly in the background as we dance, and I can feel my heart beating faster. Neither of us says a thing, not in the daydream, not in real life. Minutes pass by in silence, and that's how we both like it. I get to daydream about the love I may never find, and he gets to fight virtual characters on a screen. 
    Eventually, however, a dream must end to allow another to begin. The music comes to a finish. Kier and I bow to each other. The scene disintegrates and my vision must adjust to the sight of my TV instead of Kier's eyes. 
    Kier has been my dance partner in that fantasy many times. I wonder if he could be the one. I look up at him, which causes him to look down at me. The longer we look at each other, the more I can feel his body relaxing. His leg stops bouncing, and his muscles feel less tense. His fingers are no longer glued to the Xbox controller, but barely brushing the joysticks. I look at his lips. He looks at mine. And in a moment, we can feel them gently pressed together. The pressure against me is foreign. His lips are soft. They're warm and comforting, and again he professes his love. I close my eyes the way they do in the movies, but I don't feel anything. I'm not in a movie. This kiss feels untrue, and I don't want to continue it. 
I pull away.
    Kier looks at me with a highlight in his eye. A smile tugs at the lips I just lied to. I pout, wishing I could return the feelings that I've always known he's had for me. My heart aches, and it's because Kier is everything I've ever wanted in a lover. I can see myself with him in every lovesick fantasy of mine. He would go on walks with me. He would make cute, sentimental presents for me instead of buying something. He would dance in the rain with me. So why can't I feel anything for him? He's my best friend, and I'd give him the world if I could. What will he say when I try to explain? How will I explain it? After all, how can I say I don't experience something I don't even understand?
    I draw in a breath and open my mouth. But at this point, Kier has already read me. He's seen my disappointed frown. The nervous glint in my eyes. He knows I didn't feel anything, even if he felt everything. I apologise to him, my voice as soft as the low tide, as wavered as a quivering flame about to be blown out. I watch as he shows me the sad version of his pretty smile, his eyebrows knitting a down blanket. 
    He offers me a fist and a bittersweet wink of his eye. I return his sad smile and bump my own fist against his.

    A silent room and a fist bump: the only love I know.

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  • November 6, 2019 - 4:11pm (Now Viewing)

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