Recently I stumbled across a cinematic masterpiece appropriately titled "Blue is the Warmest Colour," which made me feel every possible emotion one can feel. The movie revolves around a young lesbian couple dealing with the peaks and pits of their relationship throughout the years in France. From the acting and cinematography to the musical score, it’s one of those films that are so absolutely brilliant and relatable it can’t help but make you believe it’s real. So naturally, after completing three hours and seven minutes of pure mental breakdowns, I couldn’t help but think about the boy I could have loved.
If I was asked to describe him in one word, I would predictably say "beautiful." He was a tall, athletic, big brown-eyed fellow whose Puerto Rican roots blended perfectly into an absolutely exquisite human being to gawk at. Although his physical attributes were a nice bonus, it was his passionate and talented personality that had me hooked.
When he wasn't writing music, he was listening to it and analyzing it from every lens possible. Every song he created or felt a connection to had a deeper meaning to him. He desperately wanted the world to feel the euphoria he felt when a beat dropped or a guitar string was strummed. He made me think about not only about art, but life in a whole new context. Everything had the potential to be bigger, better, and brighter in his world. You just had to look or listen hard enough.
Yet, through his creative exterior was a haunting core. He struggled deeply with self-esteem issues and would often shut me out when I would try to figure out his emotions. It got exceptionally worse when he got out of serious relationships that left him feeling extremely vulnerable to feeling so much again with someone new or different.
Being the optimistic person I am, I thought I could fix him. I thought that my gentleness, good listening ear, and my ability to put someone's feelings in front of my own would be enough for him to heal. I never truly took into consideration that my genuine heart wouldn't be enough to overpower the dark, cold ones he was used to dealing with before. I thought we would be happy. I thought we would end up together. I thought we would fall in love.
We didn't.
Turns out, no matter how hard I tried he just wasn't there. I couldn't force him to be there. I became so emotionally invested in someone who simply couldn't handle commitment. I wanted him all the time. No one else. But he just wasn't there. It was like trying to lead a horse to water that just didn't want to take a drink. I was a big glass of water, but he was far from parched.
Truthfully, it broke my heart. Looking back, I thought I really did love him. But as I write this article, I realize I just almost did. Almost is never enough. Although I never got the chance to fall in love with him, the times we spent together were truly magical. We created music together that made our hearts race and we used it as our form of language. We talked aimlessly about the stages of life and how sometimes it can be so cruel yet so beautiful.
There was a particular quote in the film that reminded me of my true feelings towards the failed relationship. It was towards the conclusion, and the two women are meeting up for the first time after separating months prior. Emma, who reminds me a lot of myself, tells her sweet Adele, "But I have infinite tenderness for you. I always will. My whole life."
To the boy I could have loved, I'm sorry I couldn't fix you. I'm sorry we were the spring stuck in stormy weather. My only hope is that I can provide someone else the love I desperately wished I could have provided to you. Even though we may no longer speak, you are forever imprinted in my heart. You will forever affect every relationship I have from here on out. Maybe you weren't my soulmate and maybe things would have been different if we had met at a different time or in a different life. But if I know one thing, and it's that I will never forget what we could have been.
