I’d heard of his type before, but never experienced him until I moved to his location, in my late twenties. His presence alone was enough to steal your breath. Pulling it from your lungs and leaving you in short and sharp heaves. From the moment I met him, I fell in love; even being near him caused my face to hurt. Of course, I had never felt a thing like this. When we were together, chills would invade my body. His face was angelic, so pale and pristine, almost as if his skin were iridescent. An image that just wouldn’t fade, with eyes that sparkled, and when the sun hit, they were mesmerizing. Any time he touched me; tingles would shimmy down my spine. There was none like him. He kissed me so hard I felt alive, leaving my lips numb. I had hoped he’d stay forever, but that was never meant to be.
It was only months before he left, vacating the area leaving no trace of his presence. It was as if he’d never existed. Feeling returned to my body and my shimmering world shown damp and drab. The search for him became obsessive and endless; it wasn’t until a year later that he crossed my path again. Though now, I didn’t feel a sense of adventure when he showed up. I felt my fingers and toes losing feeling and my pulse slowing down. He was cold and rather selfish. I asked him where he’d been only for him to turn around and leave again. Unable to wrap my mind around this, I followed him this time.
Travels took me half across the globe to find him. Seeing him standing tall and great as if he’d never left me. Only, he met me with an icy glare, far different than what I’d know before. In this encounter, he felt harsh and bitter with an eerie sense of emptiness. I tried so hard to reach him, only to have him lash back at me. It was enough to make me wish I’d never came to find him, enough for me to crave the warmth of my own bed back home.
It seemed like everything he touched now became frozen and damaged. His teeth gleaming white and snarling at the world, testing it, taunting it, daring it to tango with his slippery exterior and his dead insides. I didn’t recognize him here and so I had no choice but to leave. To get as far away from him as I could, but by the time I’d returned home, he’d followed me back. A milder version from what I’d just witnessed, but his cold external was still very much in the flesh. At this point, I was over him, ready to be rid of him, just exhausted by him. I guess the California in me was never really cut out for winter to begin with.
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