Beginnings

There's an air about him.

It's nothing tangible. He's the same person; his words and actions are consistent with who I know him to be.

But little things tug at the corners of my mind and make it noticeable: his smiles come easier; his eyes are brighter; there's a confidence and energy in his actions that wasn't there before.

He's buzzing with the high; he's loving life; he feels invincible and nothing can touch this newfound happiness. There's so much of it that it's spilling out.

No I know it's not love. It's just a baby, light-hearted and wide-eyed with naive hope. It has yet to experience pain. It hasn't paid the price of commitment and compromise, and it doesn't know the deeper, richer fulfilment of love.

But it's a start.

And for that, a part of me is genuinely happy for him, while the the other is envious of something I so desperately want but do not have.

Selfish.
Me