Looking at You

1

First Look

Don't we all love a sweet love story? If yes, let me tell you a story about a girl who was crazy in love with a man.

This is my story, a doomed story.

Falling in Love was a tricky business. But I didn't let that stop me. Love is a weakness... It also makes me vulnerable and fragile, yet at the same time so powerful.

For me, Love is when I find myself unintentionally mirroring his way of standing or walking. Love is when I like to take sips of sugary and milk tea just because he drinks that.

Love is when I don't hate walking anymore because he walks home. Love is like giving a very personal thing to someone and asking nothing in return.

Love is anything but blind. Love is not blind; we all have blueprints, and we choose accordingly, but it stops us from thinking ahead. Love is when you know they are not perfect for you, but you still accept them as it is.

Love is when you have to decide to not think about them every day, find something wrong in them, and hate them. But before going to sleep you realize that they were your first thought, you are still thinking about them so they are going to be the last thought too and you couldn't catch anything in them to hate... You now love them a little more than yesterday.

It is hesitation, you have so many things to tell them, but you want to say nothing.

Love is when you get jealous of everyone around them, and yet you trust them the most.

'tis takes your breath away but gives you new purpose to make yourself better for them and you.

I don't know if I can explain Love ever because thousands of words and people can describe it in infinite ways. So, I will be concluding with Love is just feeling which our brains like to complicate.

I was around 21 years old at the time. I was so very inexperienced, knew little about these matters, despite all my worldly reading. I've never had a boyfriend. I've never even been kissed. However, let me make this clear to you that I chose not to have a boyfriend.

And that day, I was again late. I wondered at that moment how much being late had cost me. It didn't matter how hard I tried or how early or rather quickly, I did my things; I am always late. Mostly because I am a chatter, I can go on talking about anything on and on. I talk so much sometimes that my sister has to tune me out. Sometimes I think I just talk to hear myself. It is like I am saying, "yes, world! I exist... Don't leave me alone."

So, anyway, where was I? Yeah, it was already past 9 pm, and I was late for going back home from the gym. The average duration was 45 min per session, although I spend more time than that because talking with the trainers and taking longer breaks between intervals. I am of average build, a little short compared to others, with wild, curly hair.

So, I packed my gym bag as prompt as I could. I grabbed it and headed to my bicycle. Now, do I really have to tell you that I had no desire whatsoever to cycle back home, which would have taken a minimum time of half an hour? To top it all off, I was in pain, and my body wanted to go back home and just have a cup of tea and sleep.

I put my headphones over my ears and quickly browsed through my playlists and halted on "I made was made for loving you" Tori Kelly ft. Ed Sheeran version, then I reluctantly took my feet from the ground and placed them on the pedals. I got on my bike and coasted down to the gym's exit gate. I turned left and began to pedal away from the gym. The street was quiet. No cars. No noise. That was the street I saw the stranger for the first time that night! I didn't know this stranger would change my life forever. He was crossing the road, jogging the last bit; he stepped onto the pavement outside tower 10 and began to walk away, taking long strides. Yes, I stay in a gated community, so the area has both residential and commercial establishments, and these towers are nothing but office buildings.

He had simple black hair and a beard. Reading glasses covered his eyes, carrying a laptop bag on the shoulder. He was wearing very simple trouser pants with a formal shirt. Nothing overly distinctive, yet everything shouted intellect. What had taken place was nothing at all special, just a man, crossing the road, right? But there was something very special about him, something intangible and something different from the others. There is no shame to say he had caught my interest. But I couldn't have followed him, right? So, I started paddling towards my home.

"Who is he? Does he work here?" I thought, paddling on, more slowly than ever.

Suddenly, it was as if a voice, a rather strict voice in my head, told me, "where he is going? Who is he? what he does is none of your business."

"I was just... I know," I said, with a sulky pout.

"And he doesn't have blue eyes behind those reading glasses." The voice inside my head said as if I needed a reminder.

I asked. "What do you mean, no reply? Hello what? You won't be answering anything now?"

The rest of the evening and night, I spent thinking, but I can't remember if it was him or not.