From Afar

     Wanting something for a long time is exhausting. Finally
getting it is exhilarating.

     As you wait and want you take time to process everything.
Is this really something I want? What about this possible pitfall, or this
supposed flaw? The distance allows you to work out the answers, letting you
shoot down every con until you’re certain this thing is absolutely perfect for
you. Then one day you get tired of waiting and just go for it.

     It’s amazing. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of, but
knowing you’re awake and get to experience the reality of it makes it all so
much sweeter. Your entire world changes. Even the act of breathing becomes
different; every inhale is an excited gasp and ever exhale is a relieved sigh.
Certain physical feedback you adored before – a smell, a touch, a look – become
the very reason you wake up every morning.

     But, defining your happiness on one thing leaves you
vulnerable. Losing what you wanted is excruciating.

     First you ignore the signs that things are different.
Then when too much has changed, you convince yourself you can work through it.
You subject yourself to pain, hanging only by the thread of the memory of how
good it all was at the start. Before too long, it’s too much to bear. The physical
feedback that once brought you so much joy now becomes a symbol of great loss.
When you experience that smell, that touch, or that look, your stomach drops,
you skin burns, and your eyes water.

     You don’t want to hate this thing you used to love so
deeply, even though part of you feels that’ll help you get over it. So, you let
it go and have to learn to live on your own again.

     “Uh. Okay. So, you’re saying that finally getting a cat
was…?”

     The greatest joy of my life.

     “And developing that cat allergy?”

      The cruellest act of fate I have ever fallen victim to.