Girl with a Pearl Earring
Johannes Vermeer, 1665.
I’ve always been aware that this was a mistake. I just actively chose to ignore it. Sure, the decision wasn’t right, nor was it wrong, but it was in a deep hue of gray.
Our moment started shortly after the introductory glance; you were the moth, and I was the flame. Even up till today, I’m still ignorant of what part of me struck on you.
My first impression of you wasn’t anything remarkable. Truth be told, there was a hint of exasperation that no one could whiff out. I genuinely wanted to screech our interaction to a halt. It had nothing to do with you; I didn’t even know you, and had no desire to. You were as significant as all of the strangers I drifted past.
The seemingly everlasting persistence from you wore me down. I gave you a chance, however, not without hesitation and resistance.
It was never an organic ordeal.
You placed in so much effort, which in turn evolved into pressure and resentment. I was incapable to provide anything more. Any crumb that I tossed towards you was the direct result of my conscious volition. We were both unconvincingly lying to ourselves to delay the inevitable.
I wasn’t, perhaps, isn’t a great person. I never know what tense to use.
You may have been the moth, but you were able to smother the flame. It wasn’t until I left that I reignited and radiated.