I found her outside a nearby Lawson’s, her camera in hand waiting patiently for the ingrate to complete his purchases, staring intently at his wretched back through the windows of the store.
“I understand,” I said.
She glanced at me, briefly, before training her eyes back to the glass. Undaunted, I continued.
“I understand you, my dear. I understand your pain, the pain of a pining so deep and unrelenting that you seek any method, however outlandish, to dull this horrible feeling, if only for a moment. I understand that you are willing to become a pariah, to be rejected by the world, in order for even the slightest chance of his acceptance.”
Another glance, this one slightly longer.
“But you will not gain his favor, as little as that should be worth. You will not gain it because he cannot even begin to comprehend the pain you suffer on a daily basis simply due to his existence. He will never accept you, not through any fault of your own, but because of his own ignorance and stupidity. This love of yours would be worth so much more if it could be siphoned into someone who does understand you, who not only respects but admires your tenacity and determination. Someone who can reflect your sincere and unending love, so that you yourself might be able to experience the joy of unconditional acceptance rather than the sorrow of unrequited love you must now suffer through.”
There was a pause, a desperate, unyielding pause that felt like an eternity.