From the Collection of Unrequited Love: Beautiful Pain.
By: Bridget Zhang
The pain of loving him is almost beautiful. It’s a sweet feeling that just being in the same room with him is enough. He doesn’t’ have to love me back. He doesn’t have to care. He doesn’t have to talk to me. As long as he doesn’t hate me. When I know that he is okay. I am okay. There is no reason of explanation to love and not be loved. It feels okay. Content. A painful sweetness of pure content. The burning kind of okay.
I let him go. Not because of myself but because of him. When I see him it makes me too happy. It’s not pain. It makes me smile. I am the happiest person alive just to be in the same room with him. Breathing the same air. I look at him and smile. I memorize this moment and savoring it for my dreams. Reminding myself not to stare. His handsome. His tall. His broad stature. His beaming smile with kind eyes. I wonder if he is trying hard not to stare at me too. I daydream about what it would be like to hug him. To have him kiss me on the cheeks. To feel his hands brushing the hair out of my face. To dance with him again. The way he used to rub the top of my head when he was proud of me. All I could do was try to remember our last dance. To try and forget our last conversation. He was so close but so far away. Right in front of my eyes. But I can’t touch. His not mine. He will never be mine.
When he leaves me again. I die again. I would do it all over again, just to see him again. It only feels okay. Even if he is not with me. Somehow it is okay. Just to be in the room with him. It is okay. Just okay. I hate myself for loving him. I love him.