Catalepsy

My mind had wandered even further than I that evening. My unrest bore the name Yvonne, a woman I had known and loved for most of a year. Hair of spun gold, body delicate like a porcelain doll, her laugh so divine it that could wake the dead. Her smile twinkled like the twilight ripple across a sleepless lake, her hands and feet as soft and gentle as an infant’s. A high society girl; well dressed, classy, elegant and graceful. Sophisticated and refined was she. Unfortunately my love had gone unrequited. Twelve tiresome months had now passed and not a passionate word had passed my lips in the presence of my dearest, the affection I embodied was very much my deepest secret. I would be crushed should Yvonne ever uncover it. She would surely see me as weak - too weak to confess my love, I could only figure. A man’s gravest secret is without doubt his deepest regret. My heartache, my sorrow had now manifested in this melancholic depression leaving me bedazzled, looking to the streets for answers. On evening prior, Yvonne had confessed her decision to relocate her life to New York; the city of wonder, her parents preferred place of residency. The chosen city of her dream career, blessed with the finest ballet school in the world. I did not live in New York. In sad fact, New York was over 22,000 kilometres in disassociation, but it may have been a million. It became abundantly clear that I would not be a part of her new life. To confess my desire at this late date would be to admit my inadequacies, yet to remain silent would allow the personification of perfection pirouette into oblivion in a pas de zephyr (and not for the first time in my life, I must admit). This was the situation and, one way or another, to-night would find its resolve.

I approached a proud city crossing, the traffic lights erect and blustering their ability to exercise perfect control and distain, coldly ironic. A small congregate had gathered at the intersection waiting for their signal to cross. Peering about in despair I could not help but sneer at the couples, the men and women, out together. Their quiet whispers and unmentioned exchanges, arms around each other, defining that loving embrace that had eluded me for so very, very long. So happy, so assure. There was a story behind every coupling. They met through a friend, or a chance occurrence. My despondent state magnified my emotions, spotlighting my loneliness, like the smallest grape on the vine - black and bruised. Their happiness contrasted my despair and weighed it ever further upon my thoughts. My eyes weltered slightly as I sniffed quietly to myself. The intersection ticked like a dying heartbeat. I feared I would never reach my unknowing acquaintance. Our time was quickly washing away. Ticking away. The cars veered through the intersection, each as impatient as the last. I inspected the thick body of traffic in hope that it would break, growing ever later.

The lights of the street, a misty mix of brilliance, flashed by me. My eyes seeped a salty sorrow. For a brief moment I considered returning home to avoid what would surely be an embarrassing display of heart-felt emotion. I was going to look a fool. Why should I paint myself such colours? What good could it possibly do? My plan had been to sing my hearts song to Yvonne and leave the decision in her fragile hands. Far too long now had the burden been on me, to disguise my feelings and cloak my fear of rejection. Forever destined to live alone and very much love lorn. I wanted no further responsibility. I wanted to wash my hands of the ability to make such grave changes in my life, and soon I would get the opportunity to do so.