Have you ever felt the sensation that your breath is caught in your throat? That your heart hitches at the sound of a voice unknown to you yet. That whatever logical explanation your brain cooks up as a counter is thrown back in equal measure. That the unexpected would soon become the routine. That emotions in turmoil would straighten themselves out and make sense. If you haven't felt these sensations you haven't really been in love.
I was in love. It had taken me all of two hours and ten minutes to realize that. But I am nothing if not cautious. So, I buried those feelings and carried on ruthlessly cutting down one and all arguments from him proclaiming his deep emotions for me. I used logic, I used the excuse of time, and worse of all I used my own limitations and traits as a defence against his heady onslaught. But I knew that I was caught. Caught up in the silken threads his words were weaving around my heart. Caught up in a web of longing, craving and desire. A web so intense that I forgot myself and everything around me as soon as his voice enveloped my senses. I was in a cocoon of elation, a joy boundless and a sense of belonging so strong that I physically shirked from it as soon as it overpowered me.
I was in love. I wanted to be in love. I loved being in love. But I was afraid. Afraid of falling too hard, too soon. Afraid of falling for the wrong man. Even more afraid of falling for the right one. It was an impossible situation. Romance novels attempt to serve as effective guides in times such as these but regardless of the infinite number of books I had read over the years, I felt alone, lonely, clueless and surrounded by darkness. But through that darkness emerged a light; a strong, unwavering, intense light. A light that beckoned me to move out of the shadows and into its clear stream. A light that was so welcoming and warm that it seemed to scorch through my defences and my hesitation.
His words were like a balm, soothing to the soul and healing to the heart. His breath seemed to infuse new life into mine and his touch, though separated from me by some distance, seemed to make my skin glow. I found myself smiling wider and more often, for no apparent reason than just that he loved me. I raced through my days with an energy I didn't think I had; routines became a piece of cake when earlier they were but a noose around my neck. I began to rediscover the enjoyment I used to feel while working, while singing, while eating, while just being. His love became a talisman that I could secretly hug to my bosom and keep away from the world.
But I was still afraid. Afraid of falling in love. Afraid of being in love. Afraid of being loved. Afraid of not being loved. My fears would overwhelm me when I least expected it. Often they would creep up on me when I was day dreaming, or thinking of all that I was yet to share with him about myself, about my life before him, about what our lives would be like together. But then again, his words would serve as a shield against any doubts that tried to sever my heart with their brutal blades. His words were not empty. His love was not transient. His fire was not fake.
So, have you ever felt these sensations?