Heartfelt Series No. 1: Black and White

I wore black. He wore white. Always. We were the opposite of the extremes. Not that it mattered to him, but for me it did. It does. Well, I never expected to see him again, but I did. The last time I saw him, I started to have these flash backs — as if slowly and eventually reminding me of something I vowed not to remember, for it would only bring heartache and the feeling of longing to be with him, forever.

But I never was with him. Never am. And I don’t think I ever will be.

Like I said, we were the opposite of the extremes. Not just by the way we dress, but by the way we are. He was obviously the shy guy. The Introvert. The Good Boy. On the other hand, I was evidently the loud one. The Extrovert. The Tough Girl with a soft heart. And if the cliché “opposites attract” works on magnets, it does not with the two of us. We were never bound to be together. No matter how opposite we were.

I call him my Clandestine. The biggest secret I never have to hide. I also call him my Life. The Life I never had the chance to live.

I made sure that on the last time I would see him, he would have a smile on his angelic face.

I didn’t see him go. I didn’t have to. I felt my own heart beating against his strong hands. I know that he was smiling wickedly as he walked away.





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