Discount the Magic: I've Met Someone

"So I've met someone," I tell people, because I have, and because 'though I've met lots and lots of someones this past year--some I liked, even--I know this one is something in particular. I just know.

I've met someone with whom I was instantly comfortable, a banter rolling between us as easily as a ball between playmates. Someone with whom every minute was a delight and every corner turned yielded a similarity in opinion, interest, thought, feeling, and taste to a degree that would almost be eerie if not realized to be but a marvelous rarity of match. This someone made me feel safe and liked without question at a time when both are distant dreams. "We must've been a couple in a former life," I've teased. "We're from the same planet," he's said. It's been like opening a hundred cupboard doors and finding a surprise behind each one, each just the thing you'd been wishing for. It seemed we could not get enough of each other.

And what I finally just really realised last night is that he's moving. He's going, he's gone, and that is the reality of it, inserted like a knife to puncture this balloon of hot air. You see, I value things like this. I value people, I value love and friendship, I value the rarity of meeting someone with whom you are simply on the same wavelength. I value it very much and thus believe in pursuing such things ardently. But I have to remember these are my magical beliefs, and haven't I learned better by now than to hope for good things in life like people who are honest and won't hurt me, such silly things as being loved and special someones? Because this one is moving away--he just walked out my door--and I need to snuff these hopes and feelings right now, before I care any more than I do about what isn't going to be.