with every beat of my heart √ h.s.

a piece of them

what would distinguish a nightmare from a dream? within the former, there is fear, anxiety, sadness. you are not able to find enjoyment from a nightmare, but rather your own personal hell. your mind knows what lies in its darkest corner, and seemingly uses it against you when you close your eyes. a dream dangles a fantasy beneath your nose, giving you a teasing smell of what you want, but cannot have. a dream is what i wish it all could have been, because maybe then my nightmares could not have been a reality, but a figment of my tired imagination.

she was soft spoken, gentle. i told myself 'this is it. she's it,' the first time we spent an evening together. she was bold and charismatic, and embodied everything i wanted in a partner. i wasn't deserving of her, or her love.

everything about her lingered in the atmosphere wherever i seemed to go, furthering my certainty that she was constantly around. that coconut aroma would fill my senses at spontaneous moments of the day, magnifying my longing for her presence.

i loved her like i never knew i could love before. she did something to me. it was subtle, and constantly growing, and it only made me a better man. i never knew what it meant to need someone, only to need medication. my bum ticker always made me feel like i was held back in life, but around her i was capable of anything. she gave me that hope, and purpose. i'd like to think i provided her with the same.

i had always wanted to participate in sports during school, but my heart was too weak. i had been on medication for most of my life to prevent the defect from getting the best of me. i settled for joining yearbook instead of the football or baseball team. i was able to photograph the practices, and games. through the class, i was able to meet her and i realized something good came out of my condition.

she was always smiling, or laughing, but never without the glow of happiness. her hair was always worn in her wildly natural, curly state and carried the same scent of coconut. we only exchanged a few words once in a while, never diving into a conversation unless it revolved around the yearbook assignment. even meeting her for the first time at the ripe age of seventeen, she exhibited such a passion for life that seemed untouchable and i admired her for it.

we crossed paths in college, during a lecture we shared. she recognized me and plopped down in the seat beside mine without a word, just a smile. that damn smile that made me weak at the knees and did something to my already irregular heartbeat. it almost didn't feel safe to be so near her, and i wondered if my heart could give out from the racing she brought to it. yet i always felt safest in her presence, even if she was delicate like a flower petal. my flower petal.

i was in utter disbelief when she asked me on a date. i was an absolute train wreck while trying to decide my attire. she had told me we were going mini golfing before grabbing dinner, and i had never worried of making a bigger fool of myself than that day. i was never a shy, nervous person, but she made it seem as if that was a trait i possessed my entire life. she made my palms sweat, and my fingers tremble. my excuse for losing to her in the round of mini golf was that she made me nervous.

she had paid for our game, so i insisted i cover dinner. instead she told me, "you can get it next time." next time. she had already decided that we would go out a second time. i listened to her desires of traveling to foreign places to admire and experience the culture. she sure did talk a lot, but i wouldn't have it any other way than to have her going on about something she was passionate about to the point where she would catch herself out of breath. within that evening i had come to the conclusion that she was it. she was the woman for me.

my genevieve, my evie, my savior, my angel sent from above. i loved that woman with every fiber of my being, every bone in my body.

with every beat of my heart.