“How do you know me?”
“What do you know about me?”
I had no answer. The truth was, I didn’t know her, and I didn’t even know why I was speaking to her. Everything had unfolded from nowhere, like a cosmic explosion, sweeping me along with the inevitable flow of time, leading me to cross her path. Yet, I sensed something undeniable—she was changing me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. My anatomical, psychological, linguistic, and even genetic defaults, the ones that had defined me for so long, were being rewritten. I felt myself evolving, transforming into a version of me I had never imagined—a beautiful young man, shaped by her presence.
“I don’t know you,” I finally said, because I truly didn’t. It was the first time I had ever spoken to a girl like this, and I didn’t know how else to respond.
I loved the way she transformed me from something hollow into someone with a soul. I never knew I was capable of love; it had never touched my life before. It felt as though I had been waiting for her all along, just to discover what it meant to fall in love. But I was a stranger to the art of loving. Still, I tried. And when I did, it was sweet like honey, yet strong like coffee—rich, intense, and stirring something deep within me.
I savored every atom of her time, weaving it into mine as though it were the purest magic. It was a mystery how she always seemed to happen to me, over and over again, like an unexplainable miracle. Yet, despite the depth of my feelings, I failed to show her how genuine I was. She was like the monsoon rain—gentle at first, a soft drizzle I tried not to get caught in. But like a curious child, I couldn’t resist feeling the drops. Slowly, it intensified, until the sky unleashed its full fury, pouring down with all the force of nature, drenching my heart in its depths. And just as swiftly as she had come, she disappeared, like a hurricane leaving devastation in its wake.
“You don’t know me,” she would say, every time I tried to express how madly I was in love with her. She had always known how futile it would be.
WE always leave our traces in the vastness of the cosmos, subtle imprints scattered across the time zones of our past. There’s always a key we carry, tucked away, capable of unlocking those doors that guard the moments we’ve left behind. Have you ever dared to use that key, to open those doors and step through? If you ever do, you’ll find yourself in every moment, standing exactly where you left—unchanged by time, yet irrevocably shaped by it.
Today, after eight long years, I said, "I believe in the fundamental principles of difference." I saw you again, the same free bird soaring high, painted against the heavens. Believe me or not, we are caught in a loop—strangers of the same destiny, crossing paths like wandering fools. My curse is that I know it’s happening, and your blessing is that you remain blissfully unaware.
Like a glitch in the fabric of time, you said, “You don’t know me,” as if the universe had faltered for a moment, revealing a truth neither of us could fully grasp.
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