What you have given me
Is more than I can ask for.
I have spent my days
With you or without you,
Wondering how I can pay back
What you have given.
When you are with me,
It is like time stops,
And everything I have ever perceived
Is cast away into the celestial bodies
Of the skies above.
They do not matter
When you are near.
For only you
Have brought such happiness,
Such desire, and such love,
That truly matters to me.
I knew it. We would be together forever. There was no need to worry about whether I would ever find my true soul-mate or not, because I had found him. He was the one. The only one. I did not need anyone else, and I never would. My decision had been made, and I would stick by it. He was mine. I was his. We were as one. Always.
With our sixth month approaching, we were happier than ever. My friends were shocked that the relationship had lasted that long. They thought it would be a typical post-break up relationship - great for a while, but then deteriorating fast. I had proved them wrong though; I was still with him, and knew I would be for the rest of the foreseeable future.
He was so supportive of me, and us, that I felt I had to give something back. I felt like I owed him, and although he reassured that I didn’t, I knew deep down that I did. He had been amazing to me for the nearly six months we had spent together as a couple, and I needed to repay that. I had been as best a girlfriend as I could, but still did not feel that I had completely given back what I had received. Maybe, in his opinion, I was wrong, but in mine I was right. I would do something amazing for him to give back even just a little of what he had given me.
In my mind, I was planning what I could do. It was our sixth month anniversary in about 10 days, and so I decided to do something for that. What though, I did not know. I wanted to do something romantic, and from the heart – nothing tacky, and something he would treasure forever. It wouldn’t necessarily have to be a physical object, just something he would remember for the rest of his life.
I remembered back to our two month anniversary, the time that he had laid me down beneath the stars with him, and we had spent most of the night there, in each other’s arms, watching the celestial entities float slowly by, with the bright light of the moon in tow. It had been so magical just to lie there with him, in almost silence, being able to hear every single breath he took, and every sigh of content that followed. I had got such a sense of pure love on that night, that I knew I would never forget it. And even though he had not told me he loved me, I knew he was thinking about his feelings, and I knew they were slowly mounting up to what they had become today. They were stronger than ever, as were mine. That night was so significant in my mind, that I could almost feel it exactly how it was when it had happened when I thought about it. My emotions were so present within me, and my mind was at rest. I knew, at that very moment, that I did not have to worry about how he felt about me, because I could feel his emotions as if they were actually touching me. Spreading around me in light ribbons that flitted and floated and rested against me, connecting with my own and creating a bond so strong that it would never be broken.
That was what I needed. A moment like that, a moment that would make him feel exactly as I did that night. A moment that he would realise, even though I said it so often, that I really did love him. And would do anything for him. I didn’t know what I could possibly do though, that would bring out those feelings and realisations in him. There wasn’t really anything physical that I could get him. Or even do for him. It wouldn’t really be anything knew. Sure, we could go out for meals, visit places, do things together, but I wanted something magical. Money wasn’t everything, and I knew that. His best present for me had been free. So maybe mine should be as well.
But what was there, that was so thoughtful that even money couldn’t buy it? I could make him something. I was good at cooking, but that would have been pointless. Food is good at the time, but once gone it is gone forever. I thought about my other strengths, things that I was good at doing or making. I was good at writing. Poetry, mainly, but I could write prose too. Songs if I really wanted to. And I could draw. Those were my only talents. I spent most of my time either drawing or writing. Anything else I was guaranteed to fail at, but I could get somewhere with these. Which made me start to think how I could possibly correlate them into my plans and ideas.
And then, slowly, but surely, it struck me. Out of the blue. I knew what I would do. I would make him two things. Both would be meaningful. Both could not be bought. And both would be amazing for him, and would really show my feelings for him. I hoped. It was entirely possibly that he would see them as effortless and pointless, but that was not the case. He wasn’t one of those people that expected presents worth money, when something for less money but more meaningful could be bought. If I had his character right, he would love these two presents. I would just have to get them done first.
Saying you are going to do something is a lot easier than actually getting it done. I spent that whole night staring, first at a canvas, then at a blank sheet of paper. The staring did more harm than good in the end. I finished that night with nothing produced from the hours I had tried. My main idea was still in my head, and I wanted to do it, but the inspiration was just not there at the moment. I needed time to think about it, to get it sorted out in my head.
The second night I had expected more from, but it was exactly the same as the first. I had managed to get some words out, and some lines, but to no avail. Those same words and lines were in the bin before I had even thought about sleep. They were not perfect enough. My present for him had to be amazing, unbeatable. The best two presents he could possibly have. If they weren’t perfect, then he would not receive them. He deserved nothing less.
The third night, however, was different. I had only a week left until my presents had to be finished and given to him. During the day ideas had slowly begun to creep into my head, and by the evening I was brimming with them. I scribbled furiously onto my blank page, creating notion and concepts that I could possibly use, and then onto my canvas I drew, rough outlines at first, but it was a start. My writing had a subject matter, as did my painting. The inspiration for my painting had come from a selection of photos I had looked through earlier that day. We had taken a lot of photos of ourselves during our six months together. They were all happy, no fake smiles or anything to suggest a lack of desire. Raw photos, expressing our emotion as perfectly as possible. One had stood out to me, out of the hundreds of photos I had stored on my computer. The amount may have sounded obsessive, but I wanted our memories to be captured both physically and mentally. And any photo I took with him in was instant perfection. He was so radiant, that I did not need to photograph anything else. His adoration made everything else look plain.
The photo that had stood out, the one that I had chosen, was one that had been taken in the park, of us together shortly before our three month anniversary. It was still warm, and sunny, and the flowers were still in bloom. That was partly why I had chosen the photo. The background was vibrant with colours, all sorts of colours, from the lightest of yellows to the deepest of blues. The trees were green and bountiful, and the grass glistened underneath the sun. The rays of light that hit our faces were bright and happy, and made the edges of our faces glow with delight.
The main reason I had chosen the photo though, was not the background, despite how fun it looked to paint, but his expression in the photo. This was perhaps the purest photo of them all. He was truly happy in it. His features were exceptionally easy on the eye, displaying his photogenic qualities so finely. Even I did not look bad in it, which must have ensured that it was a good shot. We were both half smiling and half laughing. The moment had been captured perfectly. This was the one photo that showed the details of our relationship, down to the very last strands, as real as it was. And soon this photo would be converted into paint, hopefully for him to hang on his wall, and to look at every day, thinking of me.
The writing, on the other hand, was proving much more difficult to create. I had some ideas; vague plans and skeleton structures as to what it would be about, but nothing definite. I had decided, over much contemplation, that it would be a song. My musical skills were lacking, but I would try my best to perform it. It would be written for voice and piano alone. I was not able to play anything else, and although my singing voice was hardly good, it would be enough to convey the meaning of the song. And content, in my eyes, was much more important for this than deliverance. Even if he did end up wincing in pain at the notes I was trying to hit, at least he could feel what I felt through my words. It would be magical for him, and that was what I wanted.
I carried on through the night, concentrating on both artefacts. In the end I resorted to just painting, as I knew what I was doing with that. I had started with the background, bringing out both the soft and bright greens of the trees and bushes, and the calm blue of the sky and bright yellow of the sun. The flowers I painted in later, full of reds, oranges, blues, pinks and purples. Just about every colour was in this painting, which emphasised how huge my feelings were for him. The shine of the colours together created a radiance so fulfilling that his eyes would be automatically drawn towards the picture, especially the main focus of it, which was us.
As I painted in the features of his face, it made me realise further how perfect and untouchable he was. His face was perfectly sectioned and his features aligned. He was symmetrical, glowing flawlessness from both sides of his face. He had no visible imperfections. Everything was as it should be, as I liked it and wanted it to be.
My features in the painting were less so, but that only increased his perfection to me further. He was the stand out of the painting. Even against all of the flowers, all of the nature, and all of the beauty of the lighting and radiance, he was the part that brought my eyes in. The part that I did not want to take my eyes off of. I hoped that I would never have to.
With one last tweak to the background, my painting was finished. It had taken over five hours in total, longer than I would usually spend on a painting, but it had been worth it. I set it to the side, allowing it to dry. In my head I knew that he would love it.