You met him one night when your world was spinning out of control. When every breath you took suffocated the remnants of your will to live. And everytime you looked up, sat up, held your head up high – you sank lower and lower. After your last one, after your life, your everything – you swore never again to be a victim of love. Swore to protect yourself from pain, even at the expense of pleasure…
And there he was. The kind you knew was bad for you. The dream you knew better than to chase. Still, the heart wants what it wants.
He looked at you, gazing endearingly at your eyes, but looking away as soon as you turned to face his direction. Subtle, is what he might have thought he was being. And you must have thought it was cute that he was shy.
So that day you got off your dead-end job early, to mingle with a bunch of friends. You knew he was going to be there. He was the only reason you went. And you liked it. A little too much. “It’s all fun and games,” you said. And when he couldn’t stop gushing about you to his friends, you thought you had scored the platinum of all prizes.
Then came you. Emotionally unavailable, craddled with daddy issues and a past so psychologically quagmaic it would put 3rd world politics and power plays to shame. You loved nothing within yourself and the fact that you were still growing in the same persona was infuriating. You had become reckless, angry, negative, narcissistic and everything about life you loathed, with a passion deeper than the background of the story of Christ’s love. A ticking time bomb, is what you were. Broken, hurt and ready to detonate. You were so sure that you were at your end. Drowning without water. Screaming without a sound. It wasn’t the calm before the storm for you darling and neither was it the walk before the run. It was far much more gone than that and you knew it.
He changed all that. He caressed your scars. Kissed your insecurities. Made love to your imperfections. He was pleasure to your dark soul, colour to your past and direction to your present. Told you that you were not just his star but his whole damn sky. He made you feel things again and showed you possibilities. New horizons of positivity in levels your own imagination alone couldn’t fathom. He had a life that he shared with you. And you were grateful. For in that brief moment, you felt alive again.
That was all it took. All it took for you to not look at the fine print. To not question why the conversations grew shorter. Why the content of your conversations simply revoled around the words, when are you coming to see me? Why the phone calls stopped and it suddenly became okay to not speak to each other for longer than a week. When his friends started acting different around you. You had given him your everything. And you could’ve given it all up for him too. You dreamed his dreams and sweat his nightmares. Thought of the next time you’d hear his voice as soon as you hang up the phone after his call. That was what he had become to you. Life. And you knew not how to live without him in it.
Then somehow you found out that you were not his woman. You were his other woman. The one he needed to make him feel better when he was having problems with his woman. The fun one.The unpredictable one. The one with such low self esteem that it only took a few kind words, to get him what he wanted. The one who made his audience on social media, liking and commenting. But even that, you thought you could get over. Until you also found out that you were not just his other woman. Just one of his many other women. Another estate statistic.
It crushed you. Broke you into more pieces than you thought was what was left of you, didn’t it? That was the last nail not hammered into your coffin. Hammered into you. So deep you felt it in your heart and soul.
Alone again. Desolete. Ruined. Embarrassed. You’d had enough. So you called that one guy. The one every woman has. He was nice to you. Until on that evening, you saw him for what he trully was. A jerk who just wanted you for the optics, plus ofcourse riding on the hope that he’d one day enjoy a lay. So you axed him there and then like the no-nonsense woman that you are. You go girl!
Do take a shot or two as you remember for one last time, the nickname he gave you. Sip the wine honey, as you remember how he kissed your neck. Numb the pain. Call him and curse him out. Scream his name until the world knows the depths of him. Cry into your pillow until it’s too soaked to lie on. You are by youself again.
Hush, baby, hush. And remember that even this, will only be a memory one day.
Life goes on!