Her

Part 16

I could never have imagined in a thousand years how much energy and concentration it took to ignore someone. Especially someone you saw everyday. Especially someone you had to listen to everyday. Especially her. It required you to be aware of them at all times, to know exactly where they were every minute they were in the room, so you could either look down or look away, lest they thought you were looking at them. Lest they thought you cared. It required you to go out of your way to calculate where they were walking and take a route that wouldn't intersect with theirs. It required them to be present in your thoughts at all times, for your world to be centered around them for every second. She consumed my entire being day in and day out, she was all I ever thought about. I lived and breathed her. Just as I had done before... before. Everything was different, it seemed as if the very design of the world had been reconstructed overnight, but only her and I felt the changes. And the blueprint for this unfamiliar, strange world had been shown to all but me. I kept thinking, there were countless days where I had been able to casually glance up at her as she passed by me, and her beautiful hand would skim across my shoulder, my arm, my desk, or my my hand. Neither insouciant or lackadaisical, simply... untroubled and almost flirtatiously hesitant. This terrified, strict, endless routine, this cautious dance where we both acted blasé, impervious, apathetic, was new and different and I hated every moment of pretending that I didn't still love her more than life itself. Each instant, I was defying every desire that screamed through my body, heart, head and soul, to raise my eyes to meet hers at last, to apologize profusely, though I know I would do it all over again to see for second that look of deep, unearthed joy, certainty and even love, in her green, lyrical eyes. Not seeing her paradisiacal form, the subtle shimmer of her coffee toned hair, those eyes, her slender hands, poised to write. Not seeing her sitting atop her desk, her legs crossed beneath her dress, surveying the class. Hearing her distinct voice permeating the confined classroom, focusing on it so intensely, and yet being unable to see her, was an unfathomable degree of dolor that was very nearly intolerable. And yet I tolerated, second after second, hour after hour, day after day, because what other choice did I have? Leave?