rivka

Rivka. She was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. I don't say that because I'm shallow, but because it's true. She was beautiful on the inside as well; but even before I got to know her, I was in love, I think. And the more I did get to know her, the kind of person she was, the more that love grew, until my heart was swollen to the point of bursting with thoughts of her. Unfortunately, when I met her, I was in a long-term relationship. Things weren't bad between Anya and I per se, but they weren't especially good, either. We were comfortable, complacent, used to each other's company. But there was something missing, or maybe it'd be more accurate to say that we simply weren't as close romantically as we once were. Whereas my love for Anya after ten plus years was deep and still, like a tranquil lake, my love for Rivka was passionate and intense, like a whirlpool of emotions—the kind of love that borders on ecstasy and madness. The thought of hurting Anya and abandoning her was hard to bear. Even so, my heart continued to yearn for Rivka. She was shy and quiet, yet there was something inside of her that at the same time frightened and captivated me, a kind of fiery hunger that threatened to consume everything in its path if set free. I saw a glimpse of it once, and I wanted it to consume me, body and soul. But I was also afraid and shied away at the last moment, afraid of losing myself as much as doing something she might later regret. I tried to be 'chivalrous.' And in my folly, I was too timid and waited too long to win her heart. In the end, I fear it was my own cowardice that kept me from such a wonderful fate, and now I fear that that regret will haunt me for quite possibly the rest of my life.