The pleasure that is in sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself.
There is always a disconnect between the emotion you see in movies and read about in novels to real life. To see great passion in a play, or in a movie and then try to relate to it in your own life when you haven't experienced it was hard. Those feelings portrayed by those beautiful people always seemed grandiose and abnormal to Delia. Something she couldn't understand because she had never felt it. Every emotion was shallow, just barely grazing the surface, something to acknowledge and move on from.
It wasn't until she met Danny. Danny did something to her, something she hadn't felt before, something that was completely indescribable but something she felt so deeply that she worried that it seeped from her pores. On a basic level she knew that this was because chemicals in her brain had been increased, that her inhibition and critical thinking skills had been lowered because of it. She had more drive, more focus and all that focus seemed to be centered on the one man who made life worth living. Completely enthralled she found herself with eyes only for the man who shared her bed and put a ring on her finger. Co-workers and friends tried to explain their attraction to their own significant others, but she couldn't relate at all. In her mind there was no one like the man she loved, and no man even remotely possessed characteristics that were worthy of even the briefest consideration.
Delia was head over heels in love.
The dreamer became even more dreamy, thinking about them and their future more then she had ever thought about her own. She was thinking about children, about a house somewhere. Thinking about doing something more with her life then just working in an office forty hours a week. Delia wrote poetry on him while he slept, made a lunch for him and slipped notes into it. Things that only a completely insane woman would do to let the man she loved know that she was crazy about him.
The night they returned home from the cabin she laid very close to him, her head on his shoulder, listening to his breathing and the way his heart echoed in his chest. For a long time she laid there, memorizing the feeling of his body, the warmth of his skin and the way he felt against her body. All the things lovers do for fear that one day it will all be taken away. The very thought of losing him, after so much drove her to such despair that she cried softly to herself. She had done a lot of crying in the last few weeks but she was sure her tears had all dried up. These fresh, renewed tears hurt when she cried them, because there was no reason for them. They came, unexpected and fierce and she could do nothing to stop them.
Pulling away from him she rolled on to her side to hide them from his sleeping form. To purge the fears that were unavoidable, and not irrational. When the thoughts would not stop, when she could not stop the tears she rolled back over to him and clutched him tightly, waking him from his sleep.
"Doll?" His voice was thick with sleep, with disuse from the sleep she had woken him from. "What's wrong, doll?" His arms came around her, pulling her even closer and protect her from the yet unknown predator. He assumed that she was crying about the child they had lost, but it had been many nights since she had cried about that.
"Tell me everything is gonna be alright." Delia begged him softly, unable to explain to him what she was thinking and why those thoughts popped into her head.
There was no hesitation he kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back soothingly as his head went back on to the pillow. "Everythin' is gonna be alright, D. I promise." He held her like that, arms tight around her, hand moving over her back gently until she finally fell asleep. Even when she was breathing softly and deeply he didn't let her go, his assurance that everything was going to be all right.
It wasn't until she met Danny. Danny did something to her, something she hadn't felt before, something that was completely indescribable but something she felt so deeply that she worried that it seeped from her pores. On a basic level she knew that this was because chemicals in her brain had been increased, that her inhibition and critical thinking skills had been lowered because of it. She had more drive, more focus and all that focus seemed to be centered on the one man who made life worth living. Completely enthralled she found herself with eyes only for the man who shared her bed and put a ring on her finger. Co-workers and friends tried to explain their attraction to their own significant others, but she couldn't relate at all. In her mind there was no one like the man she loved, and no man even remotely possessed characteristics that were worthy of even the briefest consideration.
Delia was head over heels in love.
The dreamer became even more dreamy, thinking about them and their future more then she had ever thought about her own. She was thinking about children, about a house somewhere. Thinking about doing something more with her life then just working in an office forty hours a week. Delia wrote poetry on him while he slept, made a lunch for him and slipped notes into it. Things that only a completely insane woman would do to let the man she loved know that she was crazy about him.
The night they returned home from the cabin she laid very close to him, her head on his shoulder, listening to his breathing and the way his heart echoed in his chest. For a long time she laid there, memorizing the feeling of his body, the warmth of his skin and the way he felt against her body. All the things lovers do for fear that one day it will all be taken away. The very thought of losing him, after so much drove her to such despair that she cried softly to herself. She had done a lot of crying in the last few weeks but she was sure her tears had all dried up. These fresh, renewed tears hurt when she cried them, because there was no reason for them. They came, unexpected and fierce and she could do nothing to stop them.
Pulling away from him she rolled on to her side to hide them from his sleeping form. To purge the fears that were unavoidable, and not irrational. When the thoughts would not stop, when she could not stop the tears she rolled back over to him and clutched him tightly, waking him from his sleep.
"Doll?" His voice was thick with sleep, with disuse from the sleep she had woken him from. "What's wrong, doll?" His arms came around her, pulling her even closer and protect her from the yet unknown predator. He assumed that she was crying about the child they had lost, but it had been many nights since she had cried about that.
"Tell me everything is gonna be alright." Delia begged him softly, unable to explain to him what she was thinking and why those thoughts popped into her head.
There was no hesitation he kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back soothingly as his head went back on to the pillow. "Everythin' is gonna be alright, D. I promise." He held her like that, arms tight around her, hand moving over her back gently until she finally fell asleep. Even when she was breathing softly and deeply he didn't let her go, his assurance that everything was going to be all right.