It Never Happens To Me

I didn't expect you to cross the line so quickly.

But how could I forsee this, when in our five hour conversation, we connected over so many deeply harboured convictions about the world, and the human condition?

I walked away that evening thinking you were a free spirit; a kindred soul; someone who recognises the beauty and sadness of life and constantly seeks to transcend its mundaneness. I should've known better than that...you are after all a girl whose major is not Literature, Philosophy, Law or any design / visual / performing arts subject, and therefore lack the tragic intensity that girls of these disciplines possess.

So now you've turned to the other side, and to add insult to injury, it seems we get along fabulously nonetheless. It doesn't help to learn that you live near me, and that I'm uncannily like two other people you were very close to. When you gushed about how interesting it is to explore the heartlands, and how much travelling we can do as tourists in our own country, something in me broke.

As we left the building, I pushed on in the conversation, hoping to find some inroads, refusing to believe that someone so similar can remain so imperceptibly out of reach.

But when you couldn't fathom the value I place upon serial relationships (because I feel people learn something fundamental about themselves from each one), I realised I've been barking up the wrong tree.

And when the train doors opened, and you silently muttered that it's better for a couple to stay together...I hope it's only because deep inside, you wish your last relationship didn't end. And nothing else.