"Well, the rain had stopped, but the pain was still there..." ~ Charles Bukowski
Those who know me know that I dwell in a world guided by music, rain, love, coffee, and books. All these things bring with them something that stays with you forever. It might not permanently reside in your conscious, but it will run through your mind in a fleeting second when you are reminded of something, or someone, who has made you feel things as close as to what music, rain, love, coffee, and books could do for you.
Music makes me feel alive as if every part of my body could dance to a tune that no one else could ever hear or understand. Droplets of rain bring me a sense of peace so profound, that it could forever be raining and I would always be drenched, wishing to wash away everything that hurts my heart. My need to be loved comes from a place within myself that needs strength and faith from someone who loves me deeply, while to love someone as deeply as I am loved if not more, seeks the feeling of courage and hope in this otherwise dead world. Call me a caffeine addict, but there is nothing more relaxing than a strong, warm cup of coffee that warms your palms and makes you feel safe and content at the moment. As for books and the magic they carry, call it an escapist’s fantasy or whatever you want, there is nothing in the world greater than the feeling where you can’t seem to put down a book, no matter what, not willing to give up.
At a place almost like home, a place of power and control, I miraculously stumbled upon someone who immediately felt like warmth, sunshine, and home. Someone, so far more knowledgeable than me, so much more powerful and in control of their emotions, that it baffled me to no extent. Someone young and free and sweet, holding back an entire universe within himself. A man so kind, so inspirational, and well-read, it just felt like it was too good to be true (well, maybe it was).
He was a magician. He had the power of making hours seem like mere minutes and seconds in his presence. His words, were as if he was personally knitting a honey-laced trap for you to just fall into. I could have listened to him talk all day about what plagues his mind when he’s driving his car back home from work, or while he’s in the shower washing away his stress, or when he is cooking himself an elaborate meal at the pace of a man who believes he has all the time in the entire world.
His observation was beyond my understanding. So much so, he made me realize that he was truly a people’s person, in all senses of the term. He complimented me in all the ways every woman craves - complimenting and encouraging what I knew about myself and noticing things I thought no one ever cared enough to observe. Caring for me was like second nature for him. His need to make me feel safe and comfortable overpowered all sense of right and wrong, making me realize how his actions always seemed to put others before himself, even though his words were a complete contrast.
I remember distinctly, him telling me about how shitty a hand he was dealt by his life, in all his growing years, and how he has sustained himself to be the man he is now. I remember, how I cried, when he told me of all the things that have hurt his heart, mind, and soul, and how he repeatedly told me to not shed tears for something that has gone past him. I remember, him telling me that he doesn’t want anyone’s pity. I wish I had told him then. I wish I could have told him then. How my tears weren’t those of pity. How I felt anything but pity for him. The tears that I shed, were those of strength and courage, for the kid that lost his childhood, the teen that struggled in his teenage years, but more so, for the man that has survived everything and yet, remained the man he was supposed to be. Warm, caring, and kind. Someone with that great of a mind. The tears that escaped, were my way of expressing how much I respected him, how my heart went out to him so that it could share his burden somehow, some more.
A man so cute, with so many aspirations and dreams and travel plans, I could just take it all in and store it within me for an eternity, without ever running out of space for someone larger than life itself. I wish I could make his pain mine. Take whatever he has survived alone, and share with him his life. To make him see, all that he is to be. To make him understand, that not everyone wants to leave. A month is too short a time, too short to make everything count, but more than enough to understand the concept of “right person, wrong time”. He is the right person, but probably we met at the wrong time. A time where he cannot give me the parts of himself I need, and a time where I won’t be around long enough to be patient from near. But I could have been patient from afar, had he given me a sign.
He was like the music, his sweet smile and chocolate-brown eyes making me feel alive in every moment that I spent in his embrace. He was like the rain that washes over you, making you accept things that would have broken and crumbled you in the past. The him that I know has a lot of love to give, if he chooses to, and the me that I know, would give him everything all over again. Because we both know that we needed it. My hands in his, fingers entwined, made me feel the same warmth I would receive from a hot mug of coffee on a chilly, winter morning. And his words? They knit the perfect honey-laced trap for me, patiently waiting for me to fall into them. He is someone who made me think of all the things I love, all at once, at the same time. Because he is larger than life itself, for himself and those around him.
But this entire memory will have to be left in the past tense, as is this story. Why, you wonder? Because my rain has come to an end, the memory will linger on, like the pain that never goes away. The rain has stopped, but the pain remains. Forever.
