Companion.

Chapter 3

"I don't ever mind sharing oxygen; I just want to get lost in your lungs."

Now as most narratives have a twist, i regret saying, this does not. But, there is a bit of tragedy. Jeremiah and I were continuing our journey to a closet friendship, when I fell. I fell hard. One day, his companionship was suddenly more important to me than ever before. I began noticing every little detail. I caught eye of his half-smirk when he wanted something. I watched as his hands tapped the table anxiously as i spoke to him. Every small detail made me feel closer to him; connected. He was a beautiful man to me. Jeremiah had become my muse. I found myself dedicating every writing, every drawing, every journal entry; to him. Every so often, the deep forest that was his eyes would inspire a piece of poetry or two. I had become a slave to his existence, and he had no idea whatsoever.

Although, I did not want our friendship to be over, I took the leap. I told him. I told him how with every aching moment that I wasn't around him, I missed him. I missed his arms around me, and I missed the way his neck smelled of vanilla and burning candles. As tragic as ever, he simply did not feel the same. On my exterior, of course, I was sad. I was upset. I kept the reactions to a minimal, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. To all others, I seemed a bit sad, and maybe just not myself for a little while. The Inside, was a whole nother story. My heart felt as if it had been ripped from my chest and stomped on by a pair of high heeled boots. My brain felt lonely; as happy thoughts of Jeremiah ceased to exist. I wanted to rip every hair out my head and cry for years. Yet. I did not. Sure, I cried. I cried for a while. I had taken upon the idea that it was my own fault. I had adapted to the mindset that if I changed who I was, he may love me. Days went by, and weeks after that. I was studying everything I could possibly find about what he liked. I knew he liked writing, so I attempted writing mysterious stanzas about things I didn't even understand. It frustrated me a lot. Not knowing what he thought of me. I intended to become the woman of his dreams. He was my priority, and looking back on it now, I probably missed a lot.

After a while of trying and trying, I eventually gave up. I gave up on being the lady he had only dreamed of being with, and started to repair myself. I told myself, "You need a break from Jeremiah," so I took my own advice, and kept to myself.