Queen of hearts

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I have lived most of my life thinking that romantic love is a delusion; a futile edge against the existential terror that is our own singularity and then I met her and that forced me to reexamine my convictions. Several months have gone by now and our conversations have gotten deeper and deeper with every passing minute. I have somewhat become an addict to her affection, her smile, her laughter, her ever radiant happy character and the charisma that comes with it. I have come to miss every aspect of her that a few years ago would have said with utmost certainty is a delusion.

I have grown accustomed to her charm, her simplicity and the aura of confidence that she carries with her. It is with certainty that I recently confirmed that I miss her. I miss the days when she kept asking where I was, if I got home safe, if I got enough rest and other simple but affectionate gestures. I yearn for the times she called wanting to hear my voice, to distract me intentionally, wanting to be part of my furiously busy day.

At first I was adamant at proving to my friends that she would stop soon but she didn’t. She kept knocking on my heart to open its doors for her until slowly it did. She showered me with butterflies and attention so unfamiliar that I pushed her away. I am uncertain if she did notice that I pushed her away and whether she dismissed it or just missed it completely and just kept knocking. I soon gave up and I was slowly falling for her. My knees trembled, my stomach twisting at the sight of her name on my phone and the sound of her voice. She still makes me feel that way. But now a feeling of vulnerability is settling in and I need to be reassured that it was not all in vain or it was not just a spur of the moment.

I want to hear that I am the guy that caught her attention. I want to hear that she misses me because I am not anywhere near her. I want to hear her voice. I want to hear that crazy laughter she pulls off when she thinks I’m being cunning. I want to hear that other voice that sounds like it doesn’t care but I know it cares more than it lets out. I want to be stuck to those late night chats that we could only get ourselves out of when we realized it was already morning. I want to know that I’m her last thought every morning and her last thought every night. I want to hear that she longs for my hugs, my touch and my fingers.

I want to be constantly reassured not because I keep forgetting that she is there but because my thoughts say she might leave me hanging anytime; because I do not trust the way I think things, because I over think, because I’m afraid she decided she doesn’t want me anymore because I do not hold her dear; because I did not tell her that she is important to me in more ways than she could imagine.

I need to be constantly reassured because I’m afraid of tomorrow. If she ever leaves me, I probably won’t get mad at her because if leaving and forgetting me makes her happy then so be it. But I would really want to hear that I’m the guy worth waiting for. If she leaves I will be sad, broken and devastated. Love isn’t really for me and being alone is what I do best. But if she decides to stay all I ask is that she doesn’t get tired of reassuring me. Please do not give up on me.

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About Cooper Jose Njoroge

Is a great thinker, writer, philosopher, poet, photographer, footballer, a student of life and politics, an aspiring mathematician and soon to be physicist. He is imaginative, analytical and highly unconventional. Tells as it is and sees things for what they are rather than what they would rather be.

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[…] had conquered my previously held conviction that romantic love is a delusion. Read about it in the Queen of hearts . I had opened the doors to the floodgates of my heart, given it a chance and finally felt it. […]