Sunrise. 

My eyes glued to my computer screen, struggling to decipher the problems of the previous person – you walked up to my desk, before I even called your name.

 

Rude. I hated customers like that.

 

“Have you been put in line—-“ my question cut short, the vibrancy of your green metallic eyes halting my assault.

 

“Hi,” I forced out through a short breath, and clenched teeth.

 

You cocked your head to the side and half-smiled, I could feel your eyes tracing down my arm to my tattoo. It made me self-conscious. “Hi, how are you?”

 

That was my line, I was supposed to ask that.

 

Instinctively, I answered mentally to myself, “better now.” The awkward pause played across your face and a small nervous laugh escaped between my lips, as I closed my eyes embarrassed while shaking my head, “Sorry I’m fine, and you?”

 

Your ocean green eyes lit up and lingered against mine for a moment — I’ll always remember that 5-second silence of uncertainty. What were you thinking?

 

And so our conversation continued, casually straying away from business and becoming more personal than I was accustomed to in such a short amount of time.

 

At one point, my coworker Lisa walked up to my desk and said to the both of us, “You two must know each other.”

 

I hadn’t realized how comfortable both of us had become amongst strangers. We exchanged laughter and continued with our banter.

 

Your dad worked for the military, so you had lived all over the country. You played multiple instruments, and loved art, and fashion.

 

I found it odd, seeing as you weren’t coated with make-up or wearing anything anyone was strutting down the runway. Simple beauty, it was refreshing.

 

I somehow always find myself inexplicably and relentlessly romantically attracted to artistic people — a finely tuned mind sharpened by creativity.

 

As a writer, I can’t help it. I can’t help breaking my heart over my own art… and letting art break my heart. It is a cycle, and I have yet to decide which one manifested first. And maybe this is why love will never work out for me.

 

But you, my god, make me want to take that chance.

 

After our brief encounter, I handed over my business card to you — formal, of course. I never honestly expected to talk to you again. I just didn’t want to end our transaction knowing I didn’t at least give you a way back to me if you so desired it.

 

I watched you walk out the door, and turned my attention towards Lisa who had been watching me at this point. She smiled and I could tell by the way the wrinkles hit her eyes that she was about to make a smartass remark.

 

“So ukulele girl huh?”

 

I rolled my eyes at her trying to feign off the redness forming on my cheeks and shrugged off her sarcasm, “She’s probably my soulmate, you know.”

 

 

——————————-

 

February 2nd, 2016 17:38

“Hey you.

This is Katie (the ukulele/

Lived all over the country

girl)

Just wanted to say thanks for the help!”

 

I was surprised to see an unknown message on my work phone — I hardly ever check it and don’t pay much mind to it. But this one caught my attention.

 

“Fuck,” I cursed at myself, “this was from four hours ago, is it too late to message back? Well, whatever, it would be rude not to,” I convinced myself.

 

And so we picked up where we left off at work, I was quite amused at the direction of our texts. You were open and out, something I wasn’t used to. I could tell you were trying to pry the information out of me, too. Good, I wanted you to be curious about my romantic interests — because I, too, was eager about yours.

 

Finally, I asked if I could text you from my personal number. You agreed, and we went on for a few days of non-stop communication. It was cute; within those first few days I learned your sleeping habits, stolen by slumber before midnight, and in your car by 7:40am.

 

 

So I did the one thing I hadn’t done in ages — I took initiative and I asked you on date, for coffee. Even though I wasn’t a fan, I wanted to do something you liked. I wanted to know you, to be frank. What was your favourite blend? And how would it be to taste it off your lips? Would it be mine too, after?

 

 

——————————-

 

When Saturday finally came around, I was anxiety fueled, to say the least. I cleaned my apartment like crazy — not because I expected to bring you home, but because that’s what I do when my heart is a mess.

 

What I did do for you though, is a completely different story. I cleaned my car inside and out and bought a new outfit. I wanted to make a good first lasting impression. Because as I’ve said before, in the end, it’s the beginning that counts. I surprised myself. Sure I had been on plenty of first dates within the past year, but this was just.. different. I was acting.. different.

 

And it was ironically different because you ended up ditching our plans, for an unexpected party your mother was hosting that same night. I had never been stood up before.

 

We didn’t talk for the next few days.

 

My confusion for your silence was at a high; especially after you told my best friend you were crushing on me.

 

And so I lamented my feelings, and remembered why I didn’t do these types of things. Because they end in disappointment, generally. And I didn’t have the patience nor the willingness to put forth more effort.

 

Perhaps I am stubborn.

 

At the suggestion of my best friend, I still tried talking to you, texting you here and there. By his definition, I hadn’t tried enough. I felt indifferent. I had just spent a year abroad learning to love myself — and I respected myself more than ever now to know when to walk away from something or someone who didn’t deserve my attention.

 

But he persisted, and a new question lay posed to my heart: but did I heal myself enough to know when to try harder for something I truly wanted? Up until this point, romantically, I had just been going along with the flow. Enjoying and experiencing people, but never getting in too deep. I took it as it came, no more, and no less. Anything outside those boundaries put an end to that encounter.

 

 

——————————–

 

 

My new year’s resolution for 2015 was to be absolutely honest about myself and my feelings. Brutally, I had realized that I needed to open up my heart in order to heal it; in order to change it and become better. And so for a year I did just that.

Looking back now, all the progress I’ve made as a person is phenomenal. I am so proud of myself and want to continue to stay kind and love as hard as I can. But I know that is not the dating culture of my generation — and so to maneuver around the obstacles is tough. I mean, who wants to feel like a fool for love?

 

But I sent the text anyway. Because, if I have learned one thing about myself, it is my heart’s desire to be annoyingly honest with those I care about. And even though I hardly still know you, I already care about you. And I still am yet to understand it. I don’t take the word “soulmate” lightly. But I also don’t mean it as just a romantic term either. I think there are varying levels of soulmates, just as there is love — and no form of it is quite better than the other.

 

All I know is that I felt something instant for you, and that is what is pushing me out of my comfort zone in my pursuit.

 

February 13th, 2016 16:08

 

“Okay just gonna lay it out there

cause I suck at small talk. The

first time we met, I felt a

connection ith you and I

always try and pursue instant

connections I feel, whether

romantically or as friends. And

so I admit, I’m a lot more

straight forward than most.

 

But if you didn’t feel the same,

then I will leave you alone, Im

not trying to be annoying or

blow up your phone. I just

always kinda follow my heart on

stuff like this. And I don’t like

wasting my time or effort, nor

someone else’s.”

 

My finger shakily pressed send. What more could I do but lay my heart out there to someone I had just met a couple of weeks ago. It was either going somewhere or it wasn’t, but I didn’t want to keep guessing in agony.

 

Honesty truly is the best policy.

 

And yet still — I don’t understand my heart. The way it feels and takes no mind to time. It just feels, and I am a slave to it. Obedient, none the less. It’s gotten me this far.

 

——————————-

 

February 14th, 2016 23:02

 

Your number popped up on my screen. I hadn’t saved your number yet. I never save people’s numbers in my phone. I have this weird thing about doing it. You only get saved if you’re staying in my life for a while. Because once you’re saved, I won’t ever erase you. Another form of someone entering my delta; once I love you, I will always love you in some form.

 

So I clicked answer, and saw your face grace my phone screen. Facetime is marvelous; the perks of being an Apple enthusiast.

 

My best friend sat on the couch next to me, typing up his homework for nursing school. I’m so damn proud of him.

 

You, unabashed, didn’t mind his presence though and we all talked together. You laughed and joked and kept the conversation going. My best friend just as surprised as I… man, I really have a thing for people who can talk and talk and talk and still have interesting things left to say.

 

We talked until midnight and I offered to let you go, knowing your routine bedtime. But you stayed up with me for another hour, even though I knew you’d be exhausted the next day.

 

After we hung up, I saved your name in my phone. Realizing your initials looked so familiar, KT. How ironic.

 

The universe has a sense of humour.

 

——————————

 

I don’t know where this is going between us. All I know is that I want to get to know you more and more. I want to know how old your soul is, and how much sugar you put in your coffee. I want the simple and the complicated; why your parents are divorced, and if your glasses are trendy or prescribed.

 

When we first met, it wasn’t love at first sight. But it was definitely something.

 

Something that makes me question the notion of fate: soul mate at first encounter.

 

Whether we work out or not, whether we fizzle or flame; what you’ve made me feel in such a short amount of time has reminded me how much time is irrelevant to my heart.

 

And that my heart is very resilient for love, however it chooses to come my way. 

  

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