Tonight I have this sudden urge to talk about love. I don’t know why; heck, I don’t even know what to say. Anyway, I’ll let my fingers do the talking.
I’m 23 years old, and surprising as it may seem, I’ve only experienced (what I think is) love just recently. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like dating and I don’t like having to present myself differently, more often better than I really am, to someone that I’ve only met just recently. From that alone, you can deduce that fine, I’m not your typical 23 year old female. I don’t like playing the game. Period.
And yet, just recently (like, a little more than a year ago), I experienced my first taste of what you can call love. (I don’t even wanna call it that, but since it fit the definition, well yeah, let’s call it that.) It was great at first, like we couldn’t get enough of each other. Little pet names, all day YM conversations, all day text messages, calls at the end of the night and at the start of each day, breakfasts, lunches, and dinners everywhere… name it, we did it. And so I was not able to keep myself from falling. Hard. My inexperienced heart was able to experience something that it has never felt before. Never before have I felt that special, that needed, that much like a girl.
A lot of things happened in between; a lot of drama, lots of tears, lots of conversations under the stars. (Yes, we were that mushy.) But like all great stories, things had to have a climax, a falling action, and an ending. The previous paragraph was the climax of it all. We are now at the denouement of the story, close to the end.
I’ve long accepted that whatever we had was already ending. I guess what hurts the most and what brings me to tears now, is not how he has hurt me, but how I am now just a story for him to tell his friends and his future (dare I say it,) lovers. I am now a “what used to be,” a relic from his past, and yet here I am, still wanting him to be part of my present.
Yes, I am better off without him. I am better off without all that emotional turmoil, all that drama in my life. My mind is set with that fact, but my heart.. well. yeah. It’s not that easy. I loved him, really. I loved him to the point that I stopped existing for myself, I forgot who I was, my friends, and even my family, just so I could cater to all his wishes. Heck, I loved him to the point of self mutilation.
And yet my heart remains resilient, even if I don’t want it to be.