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9/19 Fair-haired, Grey Sweater, Magnetic Pull. w4m Articulating precisely what I felt when I saw you is limited by the boundaries of the English language.
It's the strangest thing.
We don't have a word imbued with the inextricable nuances of that moment- that palpable, magnetized, fascinating moment- like "kismet", or "koi no yokan".
There's a word, "Saudade", that resonates with me, generally speaking, as well as with this explicit memory. It describes the feeling of loving something that in all probability, does not, and can not, exist.
I know exactly how that sounds.
I'm irreversibly cynical, turned inwards, secure, content, on a distant dream-like plane. But, I'm helplessly brimming with some sort of sensitivity to this feeling-
a feeling I have had only once before. While I can rationally understand that this could very well be imagined, in my depths I trust that this phenomenon was ignited
by something non-trivial, something genuine, and incredibly intriguing.
That same night, I was driving out of a gas station, heading towards a house full of good friends, and you walked by. For the second time that day, all linear boundaries of my life dissolved, and what was a singular
determined, journey with a destination, prefaced by a handful of foreseeable pathways granted by my predisposition for risk and restlessness, exploded into a complex, and throbbing net of possibility.
I felt for something that in all probability does not, but could very well exist.
I have no intentions. But I carried this memory with me, or rather it clung to me without permission- I was left puzzled and wanting for something.
Anyway.
We should really have a word for this- a chance interweaving of paths, a magnetic pull, and some subsequent, inexplicable desire to say nothing to each other and to kiss you anywhere you've ever wanted to be kissed.