And then, you are doomed.

It starts with not-so-subtle glances and second-too-long stares. It’s negligible at first, but then you begin to feel uneasy- you’ve started noticing how much you notice them. Your daily conversations become more than just conversations, and everything they say requires a whole writer’s effects paragraph, every emoticon in their text not simply an emoticon, but an image to be thoroughly analyzed in reference to context. Your chest lifts and head feels light every time they approach you, and – wait a minute – is it just you or do they seem eternally flawless, beauty radiating off them in waves and shaking you to the very core? They open their mouth to speak, and you – oh, desperate, desperate you – clings to their every word as if they are the last words of hope you will ever hear throughout your cold, miserable life. You break out of your stupor, and they’re staring at you, a puzzled look on their face and confusion in their eyes while your mind struggles to form a response, your mouth suddenly not yours, but that of a goldfish. Your awestruck state brings a laugh to their lips (oh, what lips) and you are dazzled all over again – no snort has ever sounded so melodious, no donkey’s bray ever so majestic.

For days on end, you see it all – the little mole on their chin, the faded scar on their cheek, that one crooked tooth. You see their eyes. Their rich, decadent, dark eyes – eyes that are copper against honey and sage, eyes that glow when coated in tears, two brilliant, glowing orbs that shine iridescently like perfectly worn sea glass when sunlight hits. Your fingers itch to run through their perfect mane of hair, your eyes strain to catch every glimpse of them you can. Albeit creepy, you can’t help but take long whiffs of them as they wrap you in their arms, the smell of all things desirable wafting through your nose and taking over. Their scent overpowers and engulfs you in a cocoon of comfort and security, and just like that, nothing can harm you anymore. Desire, the demanding entity that she is, doesn’t rest until she’s felt. You lay for hours with them, even days, but it never is enough. What you wouldn’t do to have them all to yourself, to never share them. Just a little more, you say desperately, you beg to the stars, but time – time is too selfish. And you despise it for being so.

It’s so unfair, you complain to yourself, how easy it is for them to play the oblivious musician, plucking incessantly at your fragile little heartstrings – but you love it anyway, because it creates an inflection so magnificent that the pain is worthless compared to this marvelous melody that they so effortlessly instill in you. And you, the powerless ballerina-in-the-box, won’t stop for as long as they keep tuning, even for ages after they cease to do so. No, the realization doesn’t simply hit you like a truck – it steadily creeps upon your unsuspecting self until it bears down on you in waves, immersing you completely with no mean of escape. And that is when you understand that you are completely, entirely, unconditionally doomed.

Sameeksha Saini