I still think of him

I still dream of him. The dreams morph into nightmares when I wake up, because I break out in cold sweat, sensing fear, a fear knowing that there will never come a time when I will forget him.

I used to think he was perfect for me. He knew me. He fascinates me with his intimate knowledge of what I think. He speaks my thoughts before I could express them. He studies with me in the outdoors because he knew I will retch my lungs to death in the air-conditioned library. He knows how to remain quiet and watchful when I am angry. He just knows.

My heart pounds at the mere mention of his name. Exhilaration comes really quick when I make him laugh. When he praises me, my heart floats. I believed I was on the abyss of love.

He knew me too well. My every movement seem graded by his assessing eyes. I felt restricted. I felt suffocated. I was stifled by the familarity. He knows me more than I know him. My instincts wanted out.

And I left. Unceremoniously.

On retrospect, I was foolish. Only foolish enough not to respect the man that he is. He is destined to be something great. And I heard he is on the way to his goal. I wish him all the best.

He and I were never meant to be.