Infatuation.

Found this on the internet. We have all been there, haven't we? 



“I was suffering the easily foreseeable consequences. Addiction is the hallmark of every infatuation-based love story. It all begins when the object of your adoration bestows upon you a heady, hallucinogenic dose of something you never dared to admit you wanted-an emotional speedball, perhaps, of thunderous love and roiling excitement. Soon you start craving that intense attention, with a hungry obsession of any junkie. When the drug is witheld, you promptly turn sick, crazy, and depleted (not to mention resentful of the dealer who encouraged this addiction in the first place but now refuses to pony up the good stuff anymore-- despite the fact that you know he has it hidden somewhere, goddamn it, because he used to give it to you for free). Next stage finds you skinny and shaking in a corner, certain only that you would sell your soul or rob your neighbors just to have 'that thing' even one more time. Meanwhile, the object of your adoration has now become repulsed by you. He looks at you like you're someone he's never met before, much less someone he once loved with high passion. The irony is,you can hardly blame him. I mean, check yourself out. You're a pathetic mess,unrecognizable even to your own eyes. So that's it. You have now reached infatuation's final destination-- the complete and merciless devaluation of self." 

― Elizabeth Gilbert

By Your Side

I had written this a couple of years back. Found it while going through some old e-mails. 


I got into his car. He glanced at me to see if I was properly perched in the front seat. I greeted him with a measured smile, careful not to ruin my gloss by over-stretching. There was a faint sign of amusement on his face before he took to the steering wheel.

We were meeting after months, but it felt like everyday business. He asked me where I wanted to go, while I stared at his lips. It was wonderful to see them moving and superpose them with the voice I've been hearing over the phone for the past few months. Oh, so he must have been looking like that when he said ‘I love you’ last night. Amazing.

“Where do you want to go?” He intercepted my gaze.

“Wherever you want to take me!”  I smiled as I answered.

It’s always been hard to decide. I don’t want to be around people when I’m with him. I want him for myself; I want to be the only thing he looks at.

We settled on a café. We sat as away from everyone as possible. I was particularly hungry so I ordered cake with ice cream. He ordered a measly sandwich. He never eats much, likes to watch me hogging.

I devoured him with my eyes as he talked about something I clearly wasn't listening to. The way he ran his hand through his hair, the way he rolled up his sleeves, the way he (sort of) blushed when I was staring too hard, the way he moved his hands….I didn't want to miss a single thing he did. I thought about how I would be kissing him passionately in a small while; I had waited so much for that.

We talked about anything and everything. When you've been talking to a person everyday for more than four years, it doesn't really matter what you’re talking about or if you’re talking at all. He footed the bill and we went back to his car. I simply loved this part wherein we drove around in the deserted streets and kissed. It had become a ritual for every time we met.

We found a quiet lane and stopped the car. Our lips met. I closed my eyes, feeling the moistness between our mouths as four months’ worth of longing culminated into something as brisk as the night air that surrounded us. There was nothing to be heard except our subdued sighs as we clambered closer to kill the breathing space between us. I looked at my reflection in the glass window behind him. Everything was in place.

You turn every head but you don't see me.

I’ve seen you walking down the stairs. You glide effortlessly with your head held up high, knowing that all eyes are on you; even my lustreless ones.

I’ve let out a gasp every time you entered the room. You’re always in a hurry. You won’t spare so much as a glance for me.

I’ve seen the sunshine hit your face. It’s hard to tell whether or not it’s emanating from you.

I think you’re the most amazing thing I’ve seen. But then again, there are at least a score others who would tell you so.

I’ve seen you breaking many hearts. I’ve heard people calling you mean and cold, just because you can’t be with them. But you’re not cold to me; you’re the only redeeming thing in my life.

You’re lonely. I saw you crying near the restroom one day. It burned my heart to see you like that. But you won’t like me helping you out. I’d rather just move on hoping to see you smiling the next day.

It’s been three years and you have never noticed me. There isn’t a reason for you to look at me. You’re beautiful, I’m awkward. Even if you talked to me, I wouldn’t be able to speak a word. I’d better stay satisfied with those stolen glances at you. No, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

You’ve given me so much to think about. I think I’m happy as ever. I don’t want you to be mine, even though that is next to impossible. You seem so fragile; I’ll never be able to look after you.

However, someday I wish you’ll acknowledge me. I’ll know it because I’ll be staring right back at you. It would be so perfect when our eyes meet. Till then, I’ll wait. All my life, if I have to.