Two Loves

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I can still remember myself in second grade, and her. Her name was Diana. Golden short hair, a figure of a greek goddess, and legs that could stretch half way across the continent. She was my teacher. I used to spend hours a day just looking at her, far from understanding what it was that I felt and far from realizing what it meant. I would always find a million conversations just to chat her up. I couldn’t get enough of that English accent of hers.

15 years later, maybe more, I’m far from where I was and closer to my realization. Now I know that I was a lesbian back then. I’ve somewhat always known. Growing up, I’d find a woman’s beauty overwhelming; everything about a woman would bring my bones to life.

Now, relationships. Ya Latif. I’ve loved twice in my life; the rest was lust. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some evil bitch who uses and abuses every person that comes along her way. I just take careful measures before giving myself fully.

The first love of my life: Ahh Yushi (Yara). She was beautiful. Everything about her made my teenage heart throb and my lungs gasp for air. She sent shivers up and down my spine, drove my mind wild, almost to the point of insanity. She was a delicate creature, and she was more beautiful that way. I remember some summer afternoons we had, I’d be driving and she’d rest her head on my shoulder. The sun would bathe her body and I’d be a shelter to her weakness. God, how I miss those days…

A couple of months later – I can still remember it was Christmas,  we were still in love, and my heart was persisting to make our love grow – I get the news.

She’d been in a car accident. She didn’t make it.

My brave face, my beaten mind, they showed no emotion. I was frozen. I was petrified. I was scared and fragile. All I wanted was someone to hold me, tell me it’s alright. Deep down I knew nothing could come close to the love we lived because nothing could ever be so pure, so foolish, so childish to come close to the love we shared.

So many things wandering in my head. Did she suffer? What went through her mind? What was she feeling? Was she in pain? Why wasn’t I there? Could I have saved her? Was the reaper kind? Does she still feel me? Where is she now? What should I do?

Years came and went. And Yushi’s still that sweet angel in my memories, telling me it’s alright if I showed her weakness; telling me that our love is something people dream of, that some people in this world would kill for the love we had.

The second love I had was Cherry. Yes, like the fruit. It was short for Cherihane. Cherry and I were in a relationship before, when I was 15. We had dated for a while and then decided things weren’t going well so we broke it off. When I was 18, we crossed paths again and started dating. She. Ya latif 3a she. She was overly dramatic; cried every single minute she could. She was sneaky. Manyouke el binet. Shu ba3mol iza ana b7ib el manayik? She was the weirdest cocktail I had come to drink. Sweet, fragile, yet tough and a manyouke.

Our relationship wasn’t a healthy one. I never could trust her, yet I loved her. It never made sense to me. I couldn’t be with someone who was so mysterious. And so I spent those two years cheating on her every minute I got a chance to. Now this relationship’s got a lot of stories in it: Twists, turns, spirals fucking with my mind. But let’s leave it at that because I haven’t got all day and I’m sure you haven’t either.

I loved her. We broke it off almost 10 months ago. What freaked me out about the whole thing is that I never cried when we broke up. It didn’t bother me. And I was pissed off because it didn’t bother me. I felt nothing. Was I cold? Was I heartless? Or was it that I just didn’t care? I used to see her all the time. I know every one of her deep dark secrets. I know her strengths, her weaknesses, every thought that runs through her mind.

How did I take it so, so lightly?

I saw her two days ago. I hadn’t seen her in 10 months. She was with her sister and mother. All by accident. I wanted, so desperately, for something to be moved inside of me. To feel something towards her. Every bit of my body tried and tried. I couldn’t.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s something seriously wrong with me. Or maybe I never loved her.

When I play it all in my mind, I wonder: If I could erase these tapes, would I?

– Contributed by Falafel

Guest Contributor

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