A Parallel Universe For Us

it hurts me that I can not show you my love in its entirety because that requires you to feel the same…

When I see you, my words become numb and I can not avoid seeing you in the eyes, thinking that maybe in some parallel universe with its myriad possibilities, we are together. A universe in which a sequence of events have occurred perfectly that led to the love of my parallel self-being reciprocated by your parallel you, even there’s a possibility that your parallel self, had fallen in love with my parallel self and it was unrequited. Obviously, these are just ramblings of a poor man with nothing more than that, the imagination. Because the truth is that while it hurts like a cut of the sword of Damocles, you do not love me. I could spend every day and night repeating it myself in order to convince me that this does not affect me, that when you see me you don’t see what I see in you, knowing that I have no choice but to imagine parallel universes to appease the pain of my heart. Wasting myself in an ocean of tears that, though vast, is not as great as the ocean of grace in which I get lost when I am with you. None of this helps, none of this has an end, they are just useless attempts to achieve an impossible goal. There is an appeal to the unknown and the impossible, the fuel of this attraction is hope, although my rational self, accepts and understands flawlessly the reason why you do not love me, my irrational self, keeps alive the hope that someday I’ll get to know how being loved back feels like. The idea that there are parallel universes is widely debated in the scientific community, but I prefer to believe that it is true, that way I can close my eyes and imagine a future with you without feeling that I am lying. To imagine kissing your forehead at night and seeing your face when I wake up is part of my daily routine, lifts my deepest feelings. I think that love does not follow a natural cycle, that’s why God is often associated with love because love is timeless, love exists since we have memory, love is not passionate kissing or simple sex, although it is true that both can have “love” are not “love” by themselves. I love you and I have never touched more than your hands, I firmly maintain that when you love a person so much that the desire is not physical but rather something indefinable is when you go from “liking” or “wanting” to “love”, seeing you ten minutes makes me happier than being with 15 women for six hours. That’s what hurts me, it hurts me that I can not show you my love in its entirety because that requires you to feel the same. Though in the present it hurts when I do something in order to like you and it does not succeed, deep down what hurts me is that you can not see what I have for you, or maybe you do see it but you just don’t want it in your life or simpler, you just don’t love me. I hurt myself when I write about you or when I think of what can not be, but I have to admit that by the mere fact that my heart vibrates when I see you, I would go through any pain.

© Gabriel Berm