You will know it when she starts to tire of you. The light you now see in her eyes will
grow dim. The intensity will drain from your conversations. She will seek you out less
often. She will not stare into your soul as much. She won’t shake her head and do her little
inner chuckle. You, you will be left feeling like a man slowly dying of thirst. And she will
be the water tower, exalted far above your reach. I should know.
I have become background noise; the one-time hit now fading into nothingness. I’m that
wallpaper you barely even notice. And you, you’re her Mona Lisa hanging in the spotlight.
The mystery of your almost-smile has captured her. I can’t see your face but I know you’re
there, enjoying every minute; because I’ve been where you are.
Now, she hangs on to every word you say. You can see this, but that won’t stop her from
telling you anyway. She will tell you how much she values your insight, how many times
she read your last text message, how her heart races when she hears your voice on the
phone. You will see the pleasure in her eyes every time she sees you; she won’t even try to
hide it. She will hold your hand each time you cross a street together, letting your body
shield hers, and you will know how it feels to be God. In the periods of measured silence
between you, you will find yourself aching for her. You will call her. You will revel in her
delight.
But as with all things that were once new, you will get old. Your stories will start to sag
and fold in all the places that were once firm and tight; and you will be helpless, trying to
prop them up, to plug the holes now appearing like those ‘Whack-a-Mole’ moles. She will
come to know the end of every adventure story before you tell it. She will know of better
ones and she will tell them, her eyes challenging you to top them, to do something to make
her look. And with all your strength you will want to. You’d give your next breath to be
able to.
But you will see yourself losing her. That, dear current Shiny New Thing, will suck the air
from your lungs. When you begin to fade from her sight, you will know how I feel. You will
see it coming, and you will be unable to redeem yourself. And that, my friend, will kill
you. I should know.
