Harry-
'If I can't look you in the eyes and tell you that I love you, would you go? I am sick of trying to let the words out without choking. I am tired of trying to forgive myself failingly, but mostly; I am tired of hoping I would somehow be able to lessen the complications surrounding you like a halo of darkness. Your illness is everlasting, same as my pain. For you go on with being so fragile and awfully weak, and I go on with being hopelessly hanging by a thread of despairing hope. You may try to ease me out, but I know; I know the main purpose behind all the assuring words you let out to me. All those words are aiming towards me, only to reflect and bounce back to you; in order to assure you yourself. I used to tell you that all you hear in your head and sometimes see with your eyes isn't real and that we both, along with our love, are the real ones. But my once strong belief is gradually fading into the air as it flows around me suffocatingly. I cannot assure you of such things right now, for I am not sure whether all you believe and hear isn't real or just a figment of your widened imaginations. The horizon of your imaginary mind keeps becoming more and more creative, and the more it becomes so; the more the horizon keeping us apart widens... it widens until it creates a space of void between both our dying souls. I cannot reach you. I cannot hold you. What pains me, though, is the fact that I most definitely cannot touch you without experiencing those ugly but wonderfully amazing sparks igniting inside of me; inside of the deepest pit of my stomach. Your sparks invade my tense body, and they light me up; slowly and mercifully then quickly and painfully.
Despite all of those crucially torturing feelings, my love, do you perhaps know what pains me most? It's the undeniable fact that you are, surely, fading away. Your hand keeps growing farther away from mine, the warmth of your body keeps decreasing, the sparks you ignite are slowly burning out, your soul is slowly and painfully distancing itself from mine. I know you are soon to be welcomed into another world, I know I will not be able to survive without you. My body and vital organs may go on functioning, but the love in my heart consumed for you and only you will cause me to die emotionally, and I will end up as a ghost of a man wandering aimlessly around.
For the more I am not feeling your heat, the more the cold kills me.'
I was watching as Evangeline tossed and turned, I was watching as she went through the different moods of cheerfulness and depression, I was watching as her bump grew larger; as she suddenly felt the movement of the baby inside of her body, I was watching as her hair fell; as her body got thinner gradually and her eyes sunk into her body, I was watching as she smiled and cried. I was watching the whole time; I was there. I was beside her, but it was as if she couldn't feel my presence at times.
Months passed, and the words of my mother's replay themselves in my head. She was leaving Panama when she spoke to me one on one. She didn't tell me to take care of Evangeline and not hurt her and all those cliché things; instead, she told me to keep it all inside of me; to never lash out on her or resist her touch like I did the other day when she was hovering from the window. She told me to handle it with patience; the case and mood swings of hers. She said that I would, one day, have enough of all the worry and anxiety, and that I have to never leave Evangeline when I do so. Her words reminded me of Lilly's, Evangeline's mother, when she came by at my apartment the other day and talked to me. I now started to understand what they meant by 'have had enough of it' because everything is becoming clearer and clearer. The fog is being erased and our love cannot fix everything now.
Today, Niall was visiting me with his girlfriend Alice. Niall and Janice broke up two months ago, which was pretty predictable since their relationship was an actual definition of nonsense. They took things the fast way and after a while, each one of them realized that they weren't meant to be. When Evangeline knew about their separation, she laughed softly through her visible misery, smiled at me then said: 'Young love.' I was perplexed at what she had said, for her words did not relate to the situation by any mean, and her dreaminess was absurdly odd, which caused me to wonder if her words were actually directed towards the topic I opened. After a while, she said that they were obviously a 'short relationship', which I learned was one of Janice's many.
YOU ARE READING
Evangeline || H.S.
Romance"He wrote about her for over a year: his drafts and notes and the scattered pages on the floor of his cubicle contained nothing but the mere mention of her, and how, through the complicated love she offered him, they were both hurting in aloud silen...
