I am Fascinated By You (IFBY)

IFBY

Silence. I haven't known silence in so long. It haunts me. My thoughts race, so even when I'm alone, there is never silence. I just want peace. For five minutes. So maybe, just maybe, tonight, I might get some sleep. But of course, I cannot help but think of you. Even though you are all but a memory now, you are stuck with me forever. I should hate you for what you have done. But I can't. I have found t
hat it is impossible to be that invested in someone, for so long, and not be completely caught up on them. It's been a few months since we last spoke. Even then, I see you everywhere. How much time is needed to get over the torture that is you? I fear it will never end. So I continue in vain, to wish for a silence that will never come.

The sun welcomes the new day as I arise from another sleepless night. Sneaking out of the house, I follow the worn path down a road I know by heart. People say it must be isolated, but I have always loved my little house at the edge of the wood. I weave between the trees, spotting the markers I left the first time I walked this path. Grandad taught me, when I was very young, how to make a signature in the bark, incase I ever got lost. The birds dance in the trees, their song following me as I make my short journey. I finally make it to the little cabin. It was built when Grandad was a little boy, by his father. The people of Wood Oaks don't venture into the woods much, so no one minded the little cabin being here. Scanning the bookshelf by the front door, I try to find something new to read, but old habits die hard. I take A Thousand Pieces of You off the shelf, and settle down on the couch by the open fire place. The words float off the page, and for what seems like eternity and split second all at once, I am lost in world that is not my own. The only peace I ever find.

My eyes start to droop, which is a sign I've been here too long. I need to get home. But returning home is the last thing I wish to do. So I continue reading, as the last of daylight quickly fades.

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There's this guy. No. But he's really nice. But you already love someone, remember. He's gone. And he's not coming back. That doesn't matter. You still love him. I'll get over it. Right now, there's this really nice guy. We get along really well. But you don't like him. Well... Do you? Well. No. Of course not. How could you. That doesn't mean I won't like him. It just means I haven't gotten to that stage yet. I'm fascinated by him. Fascinated? Please. Don't waste your time on him. It will never work out. Besides, you know he's coming back to town. No, he said he might be coming back. We all know that might means never. And this guy, he's different. You don't even know the guy. But I hope to.

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After a senseless day of school, I find myself back in the cabin, curled up on the couch. I try reading, but my mind won't let me. He won't let me. I stare at the fire place. The detailed carvings on the wooden frame. The flames dance along the burning wood. I will my hands to pick up the book, to get lost in a new world. But my mind has long forgotten the pages.

Laughing. I remember, we were laughing. Always laughing. He had a natural charm. He would tell me stories, and they would feel so real. I could imagine all of it. He was always finding ways to make me smile. I remember when he went away. I would still come to the cabin, but it would feel cold without him. I made him promise to write to me while he was gone, and he did. I would sit for hours, reading his words, over and over, memorising them. Holding onto a piece of him. Sometimes he would be gone for months. His parents travelled. But he always came back, and it would be like he never left. This went on for years. We grew up together. I never even thought that we wouldn't be together. But after one of his trips, he changed. I only got one short letter while he was away. When he returned, he told me about the sites he had seen, the places he explored. The difference was, there was a girl. He had met someone. This was nothing new. He always met people, and people always love him. But he liked her. I could tell by the way he spoke of her. After that, it was never the same. He didn't come over as much. The cabin was losing his presence. I tried my best to get his attention. But he locked himself away, writing letters. Waiting for the next one to arrive. From her. All too soon, I didn't matter to him anymore. I questioned if I ever did. Just as I would lose hope, he would waltz into the cabin, pick up A Thousand Pieces of You off the shelf, and read to me. And it would be as it once was. I would forget about his absence. About her. Just focus on us, on now. But he did not. One evening, after a night spent at the cabin, telling stories of our childhood, he told me. He was leaving. He was going back to the place of adventures. Going back to be with her. Before he left, he did the cruelest of things. He took me in his arms, told me he loved me, and walked out the door. That was over a year ago now. I haven't seen him since. Not a single letter was sent. Heartbroken, I wonder how I made it this far. He forever haunts me. I can't let go. He meant too much, my love too deep. So I wander around, a shadow of myself, pretending to be whole, but knowing it's impossible.