Are you real?

Sometimes it happens that something in front of you just seems like it cannot be real, like it is just a projection of your lonely mind. You feel that the existence of that moment can only be possible if you were in your bed, with your eyes closed and drifting in a dream, which you could never afford to call yours. This is exactly how I felt when I saw you, walking right here in front of me. Not once did you glance in my direction, making me believe that it can only be the projection of my mind, then you leave making me ponder on my emotions for more time than you took to bless me with your face. There was always this mild curiosity, of that person residing in me, to just go there and ask you if you were real, but never found that courage. Even if I did fight that coward inside me and asked you what would you say? You would maybe just laugh and give me that rare pleasure to hear your voice. Yes, I would be ashamed to mention it that my ears go completely jealous when only my eyes get you, and, the moment I hear your voice, I don’t really know what happens because I lose that instant from my present self. Even though I have never spoken to you, it feels like I know you better than all those people who crave for your attention. It would be preposterous to say that I have lost myself in you.

I do have this memory when I saw you for the first time, wearing a blue sundress and hair braided with a small necklace around your neck. The moment when I saw you that time I knew that you did not belong here, you would be from anyplace, anyplace but this. I felt I would be punished with my eyes burning since I never deserved to look at you. It’s been ten years my love, since that day and I still feel the same way. Only now I wish that the deathbed belonged to me, more than to you. Your once strong, delicate and obvious lines of austere beauty is now replaced by fragile, sensitive and thinning bones. I still see you smiling at something funny your friend said and giving me that jolt of pleasure.

I still picture you sitting with that book, which you read more than a million times, and still looking at it as if it were you new read. Maybe you never saw me after so many years. I keep wishing before you leave you just see me once, not to witness the look of complete madness in me, not the eyes that look only in your eyes to see a smile curving on your face, but to look what you are taking away with yourself. I can never miss you, I could try but I don’t think I ever can, since you will be there in me all the time and will find me looking at you from wherever you belong. If I knew you were going to leave so early I would have asked you that one question which my curiosity couldn’t stop asking… “Are you real?”