All of my actions come from a place of love.
I’ve been learning how to make your favorite croissants. Seeing someone's expression when they're surprised with one of their favorite foods is a true joy of mine. It was so easy to learn what you liked too. Just a little bit of snooping through your public pages and I found a treasure trove of preferences even outside cooking.
I learned all about your tastes in books, the movies you liked. I’ve memorized so many of your favorite songs. How could I not? You said you loved it, so of course I had to listen to it on loop until it played in my dreams. Don’t you think that’s so sweet? Someone’s taking the time and effort to learn every little detail about you so they can adjust to fit your tastes and needs perfectly.
My therapist tells me I’m crossing boundaries when I do this. I’m told that my desire to know someone is an invasive act. Isn’t that how you make friends? Isn’t that how you get closer to someone? You share the details and desires of your life and the more that match the closer you become, until you’re lovers tangled in each other's arms. I’m just loading the deck beforehand.
Something about you caught my eye. It never takes much, but there’s always a particular thing. For you, it was that smile. You always had this mischievous little bent to your lips as if you were thinking of all the smart things you might say. You didn’t, though, not often. You’d sit in your little group of friends trying to look smaller. Trying to hide amongst them as if you were afraid you’d frighten them off if you spoke up. You were so cute with your legs tucked up under you, pulling your shoulders closer together to make a smaller profile.
Through the lenses of my binoculars I watched you. You would work to take up less space, or let yourself be spoken over when you thought of something to say. One of your friends even had to correct the waiter for you when they brought the wrong plate. Something in me broke at that moment and I knew you’d be mine.
The following days I became obsessed with learning your schedule. It was so easy to follow you home from that little coffee shop which I later learned you visit every Sunday taking the same route. I learned you always left for work at the same time and returned within a fifteen minute window I now had an alarm set for.
Your house was beautiful. I fell in love with the style of it immediately and knew I’d chosen right. These first few weeks I took my time drowning myself in you. I learned not just your favorite foods, but your reliable standbys you’d make when you got home looking tired and stressed. I learned how much you loved to read and how immersed you became in your stories when you did. I could get so close to your window that I could make out the lines of concentration forming like wrinkles across your face.
I even learned your medication routine and allergies. You’ll be mine, so I need to know these things.
I need to know your favorite treats. I need to know what will make you sick and what will keep you healthy.
I need to know these things.
I need to know how to take care of you.
You came home one night crying and a pit of guilt blossomed in my stomach. I knew you shouldn’t have gone out on that date. You should have been with me. All night they spoke over you and did nothing to try and learn more about you. I watched you shut down, all the joy in your face falling away as you did your best not to cry in front of them.
I should’ve been with you.
You understand, right? After so long I needed this. I needed to take care of you. I needed to dry your tears and shut you away from the world that hurt you.
You didn’t hear me approach over your sobs. Seeing you on your bed, crying into your pillow, my heart broke. I’d hurt whoever made you feel this way but first I needed to dry those tears. I need to make you feel better. I need to make you feel loved.
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