Fate. None of it? Coincidence. All of it?

Why.

You’re a mystery yet you’re all I know. You’re a stranger who’s face I no longer reckon yet I catch you in crowds & if I’m really unlucky you’re just what I find.

Love. Oh love.

Fuck love, right? If you don’t agree, stop reading.

It hits you in the middle of a crowd, it hits you with a dozen people at sight. You go weak, your legs wobble and your drink slips. Love makes you dizzy at first sight. It hits you. It hits you hard. So hard you wonder if you’ll ever piece yourself back together, when the feeling leaves you. Because at the beginning and even at the end you need your whole self to heal.

How do I explain that ever since I got over you I’ve been feeling so hollow and empty.
How do I explain I lived to love you.

Leap of faith. Doubts. Uncertainty.

He was too nice. I told my friends he was too nice. What could be wrong with someone who was too nice? There he was, willing to give me his all and I couldn’t, I just couldn’t.

Too hungover from the past love or was my mind wandering to someone else? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure what I was doing until I’d done it. Until I’d blown him off. Until I’d hurt someone for my selfishness. Until I’d just left him hanging. Until I left him cold.

October 10, 2016.

He wasn’t the one.

Sparks, the fireworks and knots of butterflies right before your first date, or the moment you notice the color of their eyes. Letting the excitement sink while you allow yourself to calm down hoping to not look stupid & eagerly for the rush you’ve been longing to feel all along with their first touch. A sign. A flicker..

When you don’t feel either of the above, darling, walk away. Save him from the misery and walk away. Dating gets better over time people say, but feelings don’t just change overnight. If you don’t feel a certain way towards someone, the people rooting for it won’t matter and your heart won’t change. It’s the click, the click didn’t happen. Move along. Pave the way for what truly awaits you. 

I loved our ‘how we met’ story, but was that enough? I loved how he found me, in a cafe’ on a super drizzly night while I sipped my favorite tea, there he was, a few tables away. (A complete Taylor Swift fantasy). After I left, his friend request popped up. And I definitely knew it was from the strange looking guy who stared too much. That’s how we began. Another story unfolding to explore the depths of my heart.

He was easy to talk to, and I admired his gentleness. I wasn’t nervous around him. No butterflies. No anxiety. It was awfully comfortable. And I thought maybe, just maybe this is what I want. No drama, upfront honestly. It seemed a good sign since it felt very mature to not feel all these childish things that made us feel stupid and insecure whenever we start going out with someone new. Wrong. I was wrong.

When we held hands and our lips touched for the first time, I expected the long over due butterflies and anxiety. But no, no sign of either. And not too soon after here I am rolling my eyes at the sweetest things while being annoyed by it.

He was perfect, kind and genuine. But I needed my butterflies, I need to feel stupid and childish and wonder and anticipate how things will unfold. I need something to feel giddy about. I needed the thrill of a new found romance rather than a laid out heart. I needed the fear, the terror of losing him. If there was no fear of losing him, did I want him enough?

It’s not him, it’s me. He deserves much better. He deserves someone who would feel giddy about him. It wasn’t me.

And now I am deeply irritated by the word honey and kiss emoji’s. I’ve sailed through many storms now that a calm sea just won’t do.

That’s how you know it’s the end.

My plea of acceptance justifies my fear of negligence. I was never a bad person, but a walking rebel. I’ve done many stupid things but always had my reasons. When my mum lectures me about the future, only thing she’s forgetting is that I’m a woman who has learned the world is never what it seems. I am a woman who has learned her lessons beyond her sunsets. I’m a woman who’s cried many tears for reasons people will never know.

I am still and always will be the girl running from all her yesterday’s. I feel exposed, feels as if the world knows too much – why am I complaining when I’ve put them all out there myself right?, but karma caught on yeah. Perhaps I’ve told a few too many things I shouldn’t have.

The need to share, the need to be heard and understood ruined so much of me. I finally had to stop.

No, it’snot okay. You broke my heart again. But I can’t tell you that, I can’t complain. You stopped being responsible for my heart long back. Why did I try so hard tho, what did i think would change? Why did i hope you being around would help me unfuck myself? instead it has fucked me up even more. Just when I thought nothing worse could happen, there it was, in my face. Why, why do I make so bad choices. I can’t do this anymore.

And I’ll fall for it all over again. Even though somethings can’t be forgiven there’s nothing I wouldn’t forgive to have you back in my life.

Could’ve forgotten all about this entirely, but I couldn’t do that, could I? Closing a book doesn’t make the story go away. And I’m a story in writing, I am still a girl who’s running away from her past. As hard as it may be, all I can do is hope and keep walking further away from everything. And here I am, walked right into myself tonight.

A kind heart once tortured, grows cold overtime. Thus is the story of my heart.

Here’s a girl who once loved so deeply and so blindly, she was also stupid. Very stupid.  The last few months made me realize thing’s I’d never wanted to admit to in the past. It taught me reality and what the present day held. It’s not the past that makes you who you are. It’s what you do with yourself after that past leaves you in nothing but ashes.

Please don’t give up on me when I shut down. Be there for me, that’s all I ask for. Let me know if this is too much to ask for? It’s taking me sometime to be myself again. This is the wake after a storm and you’re the morning sun that’s of relief. The war is over and I’m headed home with you.

Don’t tell me I’m beautiful. I don’t feel beautiful.

Don’t tell me how beautiful I looked the night you saw me for the first time, where you stared at me for hours while I was in distress and you had no clue who I even was.

Sure I noticed you staring, but I couldn’t be bothered, my world was stumbling down and some guy looking at me wasn’t going to change that.

Now you know me a little more, don’t compliment my beauty. If you truly like me tell me you like how my mind works, tell me you like dark and twisted. Tell me you’re fascinated by my bizarre concepts, tell me they make sense. Tell me you understand.

Tell me it’s okay to be fucked up. Tell me it’s okay. Tell me you’ll hold me despite, and do so.

I’d stay for that, I’ll allow that.