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franceslievensI used to call him an Empty Box, because I only got the fancy wrapping on the outside. Whatever was inside the box, I made up. We used to talk for hours – inside my head. He was my buddy, my partner in crime, my infatuation.
I was 18 years old and very proud of myself that I made it through my first year at university without falling in love. Such a thing usually knocks me off my feet and gives me some extra kicks in the gut to boot, so that the only thing I can do is curl up into a ball and wait for the pain to go away. But with exam-season fast approaching Empty Box came into view and hurled me off in one of those unanswered loves. There I was, pining away at the sight of him, feeling very bad and very lonely, trying to find out who the object of my desire really was. And hoping all these feelings would go away.
Which they do – eventually. We studied three more years together. Empty Box did become my partner in crime when it came to writing papers and understanding the course material. He still owes me a bouquet of flowers for making it through university on my notes. He still has to return some books I lend him four years ago.
I got over the whole mess, fell in love with someone else at whose sight I could melt into a puddle. But the infatuation never really goes away. It's there. It simmers. It's a desire that makes me very human.
I was 18 years old and very proud of myself that I made it through my first year at university without falling in love. Such a thing usually knocks me off my feet and gives me some extra kicks in the gut to boot, so that the only thing I can do is curl up into a ball and wait for the pain to go away. But with exam-season fast approaching Empty Box came into view and hurled me off in one of those unanswered loves. There I was, pining away at the sight of him, feeling very bad and very lonely, trying to find out who the object of my desire really was. And hoping all these feelings would go away.
Which they do – eventually. We studied three more years together. Empty Box did become my partner in crime when it came to writing papers and understanding the course material. He still owes me a bouquet of flowers for making it through university on my notes. He still has to return some books I lend him four years ago.
I got over the whole mess, fell in love with someone else at whose sight I could melt into a puddle. But the infatuation never really goes away. It's there. It simmers. It's a desire that makes me very human.
