You can't force love.

It's such a shame that it ended so soon.
I keep playing back past conversations in my head.
What if I said this instead of that, what if I opened up instead of being so mysterious.
Maybe if I laughed a little harder at his jokes, or smiled a little more, maybe we would still be together.
If only I shared his interests.
That is exactly the problem.
The attraction was there, but the chemistry just wasn't.

I loved how he walked into the room.
It wasn't fast like how I walk.
Always on a mission, always on a hurry, no time for chitchat.
Sometimes without acknowledging anyone I see.
He, on the other hand, strolled through a room without a care in the world and gave a smile to all he knew.
I loved how he took his time, never in a rush.
I envied the way he never worried.
I wish I could say the same for myself.
My fingernails are short from biting, my skin flares up when I'm nervous, my cheeks turn crimson when I'm uncomfortable.
His nails are perfect, his skin golden brown, and the only time his cheeks turn a hint of red is when he sweats.
Cool, calm, collected.
No matter what.

He always called me beautiful.
Whenever we were together.
Brutally honest.
Always.
Although, he was not honest about my looks being the sole reason for being with me.
The attraction was there, but the chemistry just wasn't.

Conversations were kept at a minimum.
We would run out of things to talk about.
There were only so many rainy days to complain about and summer plans to mention.
He didn't understand my love for shopping and five inch heels.
I could not fathom why he was perfectly fine sitting home most nights.
The attraction was there, but the chemistry just wasn't.

My dreams sounded ridiculous to him.
He would laugh at my aspirations.
I would nod and smile at his.
Inside I would laugh.

Looking back, he taught me some valuable lessons.
Stop worrying.
Slow down once in a while.
Most importantly, and indirectly, I learned you can't force love.
No matter how beautiful the person staring back at you is.