I’ve always been apathetic. I didn’t see much point to living. The thought of a family, a child, a career, a job, simply filled me with spiteful boredom. But back then, I was young. That was three years ago. I had no purpose.
Suddenly, this all changed. I found my true love, my only love. It happened in Canada, at camp. She was tall and skinny like a flagpole, pale, with orange hair and a relish for wearing the color white. She had one eccentricity. Her feet were always cold.
Anyway, we were sitting by a campfire, her bare feet only inches away from the flames and I suddenly, on a strange impulse, took her hand. It was white and smooth like over-bleached chemical filled paper. It was perfect. Suddenly, touch was the precedent. The moment was like her, like paper, but paper twisting in flames, jubilant. In a moment, her lips, reminiscent of orange (just like her hair), were rushing towards mine. We had our first kiss.
But, much too soon, she was tired, her white clothing soiled, turned brown and black from rolling in the dirt and ash. The fire was dying down and her feet were cold once again. The moment was gone. She was spent, used up, empty. I needed more.
Each time I had her, the enjoyment was slightly less. I always wanted more, more time, more fixes. But long before I expected, camp ended. I came home. But it seemed like my fate had changed. I saw her in other people, everywhere I went.
One time, she was working at deli. I saw her, invited her outside to get some fresh air and then, her orange tinted lips touching mine. Bliss. After a few minutes, she was spent, used up, empty. I needed more.
The last year, I’ve been seeing her more and more often. On some days I find her five or six times, always in the open air. On days like that, I get dizzy from the thrill of it but it doesn’t stop me from chasing her always. I will always chase her. She is my one true love.