The Unicorn, AKA Limerence

I first saw the Unicorn while riding the bus to school. It was a new school. A new routine. Everything was new. Unfamiliar. And then she showed up.

She was exceptionally tall, that’s what made her stand out, but she didn’t look like your typical unicorn. She had a broad face and short, red hair. She wore a long, grey coat. Her dark legs were flared at the bottom and almost completely covered her shoes. She was unlike anything I had ever seen before. When she boarded the bus, she stood awkwardly in the middle of the aisle, too big to fit in any seat. We got off at the same stop, but headed in different directions.

I didn’t think much of her; I only saw her briefly in the early mornings. But there was something curious about the way she always seemed to be lost in her own world, captivated by music no one else could hear.

A week later, she stopped riding the bus. I thought I would never see her again, which made me a little sad. Until one day, I caught a glimpse of her at school. This surprised me. I didn’t realise she went to my school. But how did she get here… I wondered to myself. If she didn’t take the bus anymore? Which brought me to the only logical conclusion: she must have learned to teleport. This is when I realised she was not your everyday strange, tall horse. No, no. She was special. She was a Unicorn.

For the next few months, the Unicorn would pop up here and there, in the corner of my eye. I never talked to her, of course. She was always walking too fast, and she had this far-away look in her eyes that told me to stay away.

For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She appeared in my dreams. But in my dreams, she was prettier and livelier than she was in person. I had to remind myself not to confuse dreams with reality, but I find them hard to distinguish sometimes. Who was the real Unicorn? Did I really want to know, or would it be easier to live in ignorance, lest reality ruin the fantasy?

After Christmas, I started seeing the Unicorn more and more. She must have had the same courses as me. Maybe she and I had similar interests. Not that I should care. It was none of my business what a unicorn did with her time.

I was getting a little irritated. I started to think maybe she wasn’t a unicorn. Maybe it would’ve been more accurate to call her a demon, or a cryptid, with the way she was haunting me, constantly appearing where I least expected it.

More than once, she saw me. She noticed me staring and we locked eyes, just for a moment. Her sharp gaze scared me. I felt as though she was looking right through me, into my soul. Or maybe, she didn’t see me at all… I didn’t know which was worse.

I told my friends about the Unicorn, mostly to confirm I wasn’t crazy. They encouraged me to talk to her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. What would I even say? Hi, I’ve been watching you for the last six months? That’s totally not creepy! And what if it turns out she’s completely different from what I thought? What if I don’t like the real her? What if she doesn’t like me?

I tried to forget about the Unicorn. I averted my eyes when I saw her in the halls. I tried to mind my own business. This was for the best, I told myself. I’m too weird. I should just give up now and spare myself the sorrow. There’s no way a unicorn like her would care about someone like me. But, then again, it’s not like she was normal either. What could be weirder than a unicorn going to school?

Even when I tried to ignore her, there was still a little part of me that hoped. Hoped for what? I wasn’t sure.

It was March when we exchanged words for the first time. I was so nervous. All we really said was hi. Her voice was different from what I imagined. Her demeanor, unpredictable. It was just as I had feared. It turns out we really do have similar interests. Or at least, similar classes. I walked away from that conversation feeling like I ruined everything before it even started. I was too awkward. Too boring. Too weird. Why did I even say that? I’m so stupid. I didn’t think she’d ever want to talk to me again.

A few days later, she approached me. The Unicorn. Initiating a conversation with me? No way. Impossible. I finally got the chance to ask her something that had been plaguing me since I first saw her: what was she listening to? I had so many theories, but nothing could have prepared me for the real answer: Nothing. She wasn’t listening to anything. Nothing in particular, anyway. She said she listened to the birds. The sounds of people, cars, rattling, creaking, shifting. I didn’t know what to think of that.

I have a place I like to go when I need to think. When I’ve had a tough day at school, or when I just need a quiet place to read, I go down to the river valley. There’s a spot with a stunning view of the river. It’s a little hard to get to, especially when it’s icy. That’s what makes it a great hiding spot. But this view of the river was so beautiful, it was a shame I couldn't share it with anyone... So, I had an idea. It was bold. It was reckless. It was bound to go badly… I invited the Unicorn to eat lunch with me in my secret spot. I warned her about the ice, of course. And about the cold. It’s still below freezing, even in March. And by some miraculous twist of fate, she agreed. She was crazier than I thought she was.

It turns out the Unicorn was pretty good at walking on ice. Her hooves had surprisingly good grip. She slipped once or twice, but never fell.

We talked for a while, about all sorts of things. Time slowed down. My phone was dead, so I tried to snap a picture with my mind instead. It was perfect. Awkward, but perfect. Then, all of a sudden, an hour had passed and we needed to go back.

I’ve never been very good with time. Like, I can’t quite grasp it. Like one of those tube toys. The ones filled with water and tiny little dolphins? Water wigglers, that’s what they’re called. Time is like a water wiggler. I’m always too early for things that don’t matter, and late for things that are important. Why can’t I ever get it just right?

We started eating lunch together every other day, the Unicorn and I. It became routine. It was nice. I had the ingenious idea to start bringing a blanket to school, so we could sit in the grass without getting our butts wet. I learned so much about her. I started noticing little things. The way she twitched her ears, the way she sat with her legs sprawled. The way her hair looked golden in the sunlight.

I was so happy. I had everything I wanted. And yet, something felt off. Like it was too good to be true.

And I was right, of course. I ruined it! I ruined everything. I got too comfortable. I pushed too far. I said the wrong thing. I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t thinking. The way she looked at me… Disgust? Disappointment? Pity? Like I was a stranger again. Why did I do that?

I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept replaying that moment over and over again in my head, thinking if only I said something else, or said nothing at all. I saw that face every time I closed my eyes. Maybe I was reading too much into it.

When I woke up the next morning, it was February again. No, wait… was it always February? That can’t be right. I looked at the calendar on my wall. January? Oh wait, I just haven’t flipped the page yet. My phone says February. February 14th. Ha! Hahahahaha. I never talked to the Unicorn, did I? I ran instead. I ran and I hid. I didn’t ruin anything, because there was nothing to ruin.

I want to connect with someone. I want to be seen. To be known. But I’m a coward. It all sounds so silly, now that I’ve written it all out. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. Except there isn’t even a molehill. The ground is flat. I shouldn’t worry so much about imaginary problems.

Deep breaths. You’re okay. Just go with the flow. Maybe this will pass, maybe it won’t. Either way, you'll be okay.

I know I’m not alone. I’m not the first person to feel this way. I’m normal. Erratic, maybe. And insecure. But that’s normal, too, right?

When I saw the Unicorn again, she didn’t look like a unicorn anymore. She must have used her magic to appear human. She was always human. She looked normal. A bit ugly, even. Don’t tell her I said that.

Que sera sera.