In this quest to overcome my tragedy, I have learnt that packing my bags, quitting my job and moving miles away might have been the easy part. The haunting loneliness that followed has been impenetrable.
I came looking for solitude and the answers to all the questions that kept me up at night. But instead, I am welcomed into a dark palpable reality that I am alone. It is true what they say, with no one to share your mind with, everything feels very meaningless. The concept of life falls around companionship and togetherness. A support system surrounding love and trust. And yet I’ve come miles, desperate for isolation. Away from the city lights and ex-lovers, to my personal rehab.
So here I am, in the middle of nowhere. Feeling deprived and looking for answers in the waves Melodia, hoping for it to whisper them to me if I promise to stay long enough.
I spent days wondering and analyzing the relationship I left to die, one that I starved out of my love because I couldn’t conform into a more desirable candidacy. I loved him, without question. But it was well doubted. My idea of love had changed over the years. It had become a convenience. And the only way I would know for sure was by leaving everything I’d built behind. Him, my job. I had to find myself, without him.
It was towards the end of our story, I realized the mess I was. I certainly wasn’t his mess to clean. My mess had been cumulating long before his entrance. And it would continue to stack with or without his exit. I had to breathe and take a big long step back, to hold myself together. With all the white noise in the background, life was getting too much. I had to get out. I had to leave. I loved him, I knew this in my gut, but why was I not letting him love me? I had to fix myself. It is unfair of us to let others take the hit for what had absolutely nothing to do with them. We can pray for their understanding and patience, but what do they owe you?
The isolation I’ve surrounded myself with has forced me to face the ghosts I’ve yielded in my closets forever. Maybe I was too broken to love. Without cleaning this mess, it was foolish to think I would let love in again.
Love doesn’t always come knocking. Sometimes you find them in corner offices, in the face of a complete stranger. It is not always love at first sight. Love appears and when you fail to notice, it goes away. And then reappears with antibiotics when you’re sick, random chocolates and saves you from strangers at dancefloors. Love doesn’t know, but love saves you from yourself. But you – a rebel, don’t want to be saved. Because no matter how hard love tries to conform you into what you’re not, you can’t rip off your skin and grow a new one without bleeding. You hope that love can love you, for you. But love can’t. And love leaves. Love lies.
She Was Sea 