You exist somewhere between fantasy and reality.
True: You are real and exist in the world. But, like all the planetary bodies in this universe’s solar systems that I’ve yet to see without magnification, you also exist in the bliss of imagined moments as a fictional character. Now only through the first chapter of your skin and this book, you are still an unrealized shadow in the process of morphing into something real.
Every body has a pull. A magnetism in this curved space. And when one object is larger than another – the smaller object, if it comes too close, falls under the spell of the larger body’s physical gravity.
I know, I said the word: Sandwiched in-between 1,193 other ones, I said “crush”. I had to. No longer could I bear this trembling and tickling in my chest every time I circled around you, away from my world of fantasy and in our common, shared reality.
At first, you were a dream. Something that came to me in a magical sleep as an ethereal mystery. In that dream you filled me full of wispy intoxication. And now, where I was once just an unsuspecting man, I have been transformed into a limerant who, in his wordly gait, has his head unabashedly turned toward your heavens.
The limerant, in this planetary analogy, is always the smaller of the two bodies – incessantly orbiting around the object of its affection: the crush.
When two bodies revolve around one another in space, there are two options: either the smaller of the bodies crashes into the larger body’s atmosphere or surface in a fiery mess or – the smaller body orbits the other in some elegant variation of a captured rotation, like our planet’s moon.
Like our moon, I can only hope that you hold me with a modicum of that kind of admiration.
If it’s not romantic. If it’s not cosmic. And if you can see all of this clearer than I can: I can only hope for some kind of appreciation for the bravery I have exhibited in coming so close to your luminous atmosphere.
Right now, in this crush, everything is perfect. Unrealized. Untainted. Un-torn. Perfect.
Up until this point, only a recognition has been made. From across the starry sky, I twinkled to let you know that I see you; and that I have seen you for quite some time now in my elliptical revolutions around our nourishing sun.
And then you, in response to my notice, blinked and smiled. You said, I see you too.
Then, I felt your pull. The attraction between us. And the gravity of this entire situation.
I know very well what you feel like behind my closed eyes. I know how your song sounds and feels from this cosmic distance. But when you smiled before me, in recognition of my confession, I don’t think I have ever seen anything so beautiful in all of my sunlit days.
And while every molecule inside my body wants you to capture me – for however long our galaxy exists, I also want to float around you: Perfect in my adoration and emotion. I don’t want even a false move to taint this body of work. This magnetism. This force that I cannot see and cannot explain in the darkness of the mysterious space between us.