eye of the hurricane

I met this girl two and a half years ago and I fell in love with her. It was a wild rush of platonic love that I totally understood, a fitting of the cliched and proverbial jigsaw puzzle. I related to her. She related to me. And we laughed like two pseudo-intellectuals on pot... It was nice..

And like any high.. it was shortlived. It was (is) a bittersweet clashing of the souls so to speak. Tempers raged, hearts shuddered, smiles disappeared. And everything went calm again. My paranoia receded. Friendship restored. Dynamic undamaged.

Then it started again. And again. My patience tested. Her patience, lack thereof, very vocal in it's color.

And now every time we meet and have a good time, I think and I hope that it isn't just a respite, it isn't the eye of the hurricane. But it always is.

I hope, I fervently wish, that we can be in love again. But it looks as if love has already taken it's toxic yet inevitable course into indifference.