Intrigue

Her name is Jay. Six SixtyFour, to be precise. But let's just stick to Jay.

Let's also jump straight into the deep end; our feelings lack mutuality. But that's alright, you get "yeses" and "noes". Part and parcel of the package of life. Everyone must experience their fair share of rejects, as perfection resides in none. So coupled with mundane things like these, you learn to live with failure and move on with life.

What utter rubbish. How can I move on from someone I cannot even let go?! Time and time again I attempt to fill my mind with pleasantries, only to find myself hopelessly falling back to square one. You learn to live with the pain, you learn to embrace the hurt, but you can never ever forget. You can never ever truly let go. You can never ever experience freedom from those who provide you freedom in its essence, if you shun them aside into one of the cabinets of life. Life, you have a preposterous sense of humour.

Jay never leaves my mind. She never leaves my consciousness. Like an aphid she clings onto the tendrils of my mind, never leaving me for longer than a few minutes. Like an aphid she absorbs my time and drains me of my livelihood, but retaliation was never an option; retaliation was never my option. Like an aphid, she is is dwarfish and minuscule (which is coincidentally more than just a passing resemblance of her physicality), yet possesses an inner potential both devastating and destructive, gnawing away at the edges of my sanity.

Jay is the banshee that wails at my door, in the wee hours of the morning. Jay is the vampire that disguises itself as a bat, hastily and frantically prying at my window. Jay is the werewolf, howling prominently and frighteningly away at the night, waiting, pondering, lingering, until the opportune time arrives.

I just want to love her.