Exploring the imaginary but real passion in an unattainable relationship with a teacher.
|Every piece of my being aches to be loved. Not by just anyone, but by her. She is my light, my guide, my affirmation. She is so much to me. Not just a teacher, but a fellow thinker and lover. A lover of life. A lover of simple things. We are meant to be together. We are meant to embark on the most treacherous of paths. Intellectual paths. Daring, captivating, intellectual paths. Paths to self-discovery and understanding. Our love will be our life’s work. Through my rage, I know she will silence me. Humble me. We will unleash our passion upon each other. She will speak. I will stare at her. Listen, learn from her. Touching my fingers to my face, I will stare. Silent. She will continue to speak and my mind, my entire being will go wild. I will hunger for her. Although it will always start with a starvation for thoughts and insights, the hunger will end only after I have held her. Felt her move around me. Move inside my arms. Those same lips that articulate the depths of her mind will be pressed against mine. Our minds shall be united, bonded through our mouths. I will attempt to speak, but her presence will silence me. I will move like a child. Uncertain and insecure. So again, she will teach me. I will be her favorite student. My mark of progress would be nothing more than a smile upon her precious face. My only desire would be to see her pleased. For her to be genuinely happy and to know that I contributed to that happiness. The scholar will be nothing without her and that natural beauty.
Will she have me?