Infatuation

Every once in awhile, a pressing infatuation envelops me. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it is so marked a curiosity that it nearly becomes an obsession. I become consumed by one person or two, and not at all in matters sexual. But on the simple desire to discover them completely. For some, it may last many moons, while others I rather quickly find to be a waste of my time. Only one has captured my lasting attention and constant admiration, and that is plainly written in my eyes and composure at my beloved friend’s presence. An innocent disease I may consider it, for there is no real benefit in the act but my wish to see in lives what others do not...to see in a human that they are truly so much more than I once believed them or to prove a common inquiry at fault. This act of discovery is incredibly powerful in my mind, and when the beacon comes, I cannot help but obey in my direction. My infatuation starts and ends, for most, in the plain act of observation. I wish to understand the arts of that mind and the gentle triggers that push the will. It is not only in unwinding one’s mind and not at all in exposing one’s secrets or faults, but in bringing to my compassion the subtle differences or oddities or beauties that give the life it’s blessed force. The most stunning of all, I have found, is experiencing what make the eyes glow with vivid intensity, bringing to light the window of the very soul. It makes me laugh with joy to even recall such a precious secret. The saying that “the eyes are the window to the soul” is an accountably true statement at times. I have seen it...and to see it has brought me that essential understanding and the knowledge that I very much lack any right to judge. I watch these lives with that sole and simple intent to discover them. I see what makes his lips curve upwards at the oddest of times and what subtle things make him uncomfortable or restless. I notice how he bends his words to disclose emotion and how his perfect calm state is, at times, forced. This curiosity too often yearns so deep that I forget to keep my intent quiet and prove myself a fool. But as long as this obsession turns, I refuse to simply befriend the soul, perhaps to prevent my immediate falling in love. I have only once taken that path, and though unintentional in my youth, I fell in the most true love that can be possible. It would be blind to risk it again and surely come up short of my viewed magnificence or even find one to combat what i already feel. As of now, I am perfectly content and enlightened in pursuing my observations as a shadow.