July 23, 2015; I think I'm "Knackered"

So… I don’t know exactly how to explain this. This man I’ve been writing about; full on enamoured on, taken by, fascinated with…. he’s rooted down in my bones. But how do I describe the roller coaster I rode with this guy? How do I describe it? We never dated. He lives in freaking Australia. But if this man is not my ex, I’ve never HAD an ex. It seems fitting, not to call him my boyfriend at any point in this odyssey, but he definitely feels like an ex-boyfriend. But was never the “boyfriend”. He was a sorted affair, nearly. If he had been across the street instead of across the world, I absolutely would have cheated on my husband with him. He’s a beautiful man. Dark hair and eyes, very built and muscular but in an understated way. Looks damn good in a suit… And the thing is, he looks absolutely ordinary. Absolutely. He could be any guy on the street. I think this is exactly the physical attraction I felt for him. But my attraction for him (yes, very physical, my Good and Precious Lord, this man is my perfect version of a man…) is to his mind. It’s to his volatility. The lows were pitch black, the deepest abyss I’ve ever experienced. But the highs… The highs were mountain peaks, the Everests of my life. I’ve never been happier than when I felt like I was in his thoughts, when he told me he loved me, when I could hear his voice (this was all back before the days of voxer and viber and what’s app, mind you). I’ve never felt as alive as I did when it was him in the center of my life. When all the songs made me think of him, when all I wanted was him. He is, I’m sure, a fantastic boyfriend. The guy that offers to pick you up at the airport. The guy that sends flowers because he wants to. He’ll sing your favorite song to. Record you an alarm for your phone because…he wanted to? The most thoughtful person I’ve ever known. I can find distractions, I can busy my mind, my heart, and hands with things but they’re all temporary. At the end of every day, my mind wanders back. My heart will never be anyone else’s completely. I want to sit in the same room with him, I want to hug him. I want to see him with my own eyes, match the voice to his face, see his facial expressions. Does he talk with his hands? Do his eyes dance when he laughs the way I imagine? I have so many questions. Ben is a ghost to me sometimes, like he was never real. That someone so incredible cannot truly exist, that it was all make believe. And other times I feel so connected to this person literally on the other side of the world that I feel like he has to be real. That somewhere he’s walking by someone and they just have no idea of the person next to them. I have no doubt that I loved him. That I still love him. That this man is rooted down into my soul and I will destroy myself if I try to rip him out. I’m good at some things. I’m great at a few things. But I was best at being his. I would have done anything he asked. I would have moved across the world for him, if he’d asked. I still would. If he asked me, I’d pack my stuff, sell what I could and move blindly to be with him. It would be a disservice to myself not to. Sometimes, you’re fortunate enough to find someone you’d lay everything down for. But what happens when they don’t feel the same? What happens when they feel that way about someone else? I do not regret anything with Ben. I’m thankful someone could ellicit such powerful feelings from me because before him I thought I’d never found it. And if I have to spend the rest of my life with never talking to him again, I would. Would it hurt like hell? Yes. Would it feel like I’m disconnected from the rest of the world? I’m sure it would. But if I was given a choice: No Ben, ever, he never was, he never has been, all your memories will be wiped away and you’ll never have known he even existed, your feelings for him will be gone, never existed, or: You’ll spend the rest of your life with no contact. No explanation, this man you adore will fall off the face of the earth and you’ll never hear from him again. You’ll wonder at night if he’s ok and will never be given an answer. You’ll live the rest of your life in love, wondering if he’s ok and will never be satisfied: I would take the second one. I will always, first and foremost, be his. If he told me there was never any hope, that he never loved me, that it was never real, I’d still live with no regrets. I know what complete consumption feels like and I … I feel really lucky. I’m lucky I fell head over heels for him. He showed me what it is I want out of life. What I need. What sustains me as a woman. The depth of feeling I’m capable of. And that it’s possible for a truly beautiful man to love me. If nothing else but for a moment. If for no other reason than he loved me for the person I actually am. Because he’s the only person that’s ever seen me as I truly am. My darkest days. My brightest days. Rode some very low lows and took me on very high highs. I love Ben. I always will. He thinks so low of himself and I wish I could convince him of the truth. Yes he’s impulsive at times. He has a volatile personality and sometimes it bites hard. But his passion? His enthusiasm sometimes is tangible. You can feel his excitement, his happiness. It projects out of him like a solar flare, effecting me from thousands of miles away. His thoughtfulness is compelling. He’s mentally strong, like me. From what I know, he seems like the kind of guy that can be sympathetic but knows when to put his foot down. He presents limits, and that’s what I need. I hope he finds what he wants. And I hope the woman he eventually ends up with knows what a fantastic freaking guy she’s got. I hope he finds what makes him happy. I want nothing more in this world than to know he’s happy. Even to my own detriment. Because that’s what loving someone means.