He seemed to almost glide across the room — I took a moment to catch my breath. He was 6’ 4” with big beautiful brown eyes. I felt him from ten feet away — his energy was intoxicating. His smile was electrifying. He said hello. His voice was sweet and thick like raw honey. We walked. We talked. His conversation was refreshing. We hugged. His nostalgic embrace returned me to a place of comfort, a place of peace. His kiss left a familiar taste on my lips.

On our journey, we discovered so many synchronicities, eerie similarities and parallel experiences between the two of us. I was almost sure I recognized him from another life. Even from 3,000 miles away, each day he became more perfect, the connection more real and I, more convinced. Until the day he told me he loved me. Warm yet uncertain, I quickly spat back, “I love you too.” Hanging up the phone, I suddenly remembered from where I knew him. He was the man that lived in my head.

…and I never loved him.

He was the vision. He was the dream. He was a representation — symbolic of the man that I created in my mind. He was the one I hoped for and a manifestation of the masterpiece I took the time to carefully craft, sculpt and mold into the perfect fit. I found him. He was reminiscent of the character I drew and remained hidden in the pages of my journal. Without ever knowing, he accepted the part and stepped out of the story and became the leading cast member, reciting the scripted words written with the ink of my favorite pen.

I was in love with the love I always dreamed of.

We only knew each other for a short time but we were an empire in my mind. We were both in love with the idea of each other, excited about the future and infatuated with our connection. I never truly knew him — just the persona I designed, the dream I constructed, the fantasy I had written. I brought him to life with every deep, longing gaze and a lie — the words “I love you”.

Day by day, I fell in love with him without ever falling in love with him. I would start to miss him without knowing why and realized I only missed what I knew we would never become. I loved who I wanted him to be to me, how I wanted him to show up in my life. I was obsessed with who I envisioned him to be more than who he actually was.

After eight months, I traveled across the country. We stood face to face and I had no clue who the man was standing in front of me. His touch was that of a stranger, his kiss no longer familiar. I did not even know the person whom I said I loved. I had fallen in love with a man I never met.

I found someone who seemingly fit in the box I built for them. I grew to understand the two of us did not know enough about each other to build in the present moment, nonetheless carry out a lifetime together.

He became a victim in the drama filled stories with their tragic endings. Some were poets and painters whose art wore my name or my knight in shining armor whom I sent to rescue me from the burning building I set ablaze. What I thought was love was actually me existing in a constant state of time travel. I was rocking back and forth in between all the men who hurt me in the past who I never wanted him to turn into and everything I imagined him to be in the future.

I felt the danger of falling in love with an idea and experienced a rude awakening at the discovery of the lengths I was willing to go and the lies I deliberately whispered in my own ear to make my dream a reality.

I wanted him to turn in to the man I created; he instead, developed into the man he wanted to become. I learned not to fall in love with the man he could turn out to be, but to love and build with the man who stood before me.

Shefon
Pitched Entry