27.2.11

When Paula Sparks

 

i was all geared up to write a post about me leaving again for university, the blurred view of a rainy city from my window and how each time there are less items in my luggage bag. but sometimes things happen, inconsequential little moments that pick at your seams so you come undone. i fell apart because of one stupid joke that wasn’t even directed at me.

you see, everyone thinks it’s ok to mention the boy to me now. they assume i’m over it; there aren’t any tears in public, no drunken declarations of how wrong i was. i fell out of love, this is my punishment. i don’t get to be sad. sure, superficially it’s one step above being perceived as the bitch but… i’m not happy. i haven’t moved on.

just because i’m not in love with him doesn’t mean i don’t love him. i still worry about him, i want to sit with him for hours until the sunrise hits our faces. sometimes i even get a little jealous when other girls flirt with him, but that’s probably because i’ve always had a problem separating being in love with the idea of being in love, and actually being in love. wow.

it’s knowing that i used to be ‘the girl’ that gets me at times. i know, how petty of me. sure, there were other girls before me, and there will be other girls after me. just like there were other boys before him, and there probably will be other boys after him. but in my mind, in my tiny self-crafted world, he was ‘the boy’. i wouldn’t go as far as to say that he was the one. i never even thought about marrying him. i planned no future for us.

but maybe subconsciously, buried under folds and bones and skin, i wanted that. i thought i’d found it, i thought i could force it. honestly, i don’t know if this was love. was i really in love? am i still in love? right now, it’s hard to believe anything else could ever hurt this much.

and that’s a good thing. because once i asked him if feeling nothing was better than having a broken heart. he smiled at me and said, “it fcking hurts, but i want it to hurt. that’s how i know i’ll fall in love again someday.” cliched as it may seem, i believed him.

at the beginning of this post, i talked about the realisation that each time i come and go, there are less things to carry in my bag. somewhere in between, i also started to empty out the contents of my chest. perhaps as time goes by, i’ll think less about him. i’ll stop writing about him. i’ll curl up inside myself. i’ll learn to fall in love all over again.

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thecitylights-pola

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19.2.11

Fate

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maybe you don't need to be moving on; just moving. empty vessels like broken hearts are filled with the saddest things when you stay in one place for too long.
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16.2.11

To Be Happy Now

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for a heart that's been damaged beyond belief, mine sure doesn't have much to show for it. no scars, no bruising, not even faint fingerprints where i thought (i know) he was holding on. i remember the way my hand felt in his on that last night. burning burning. skin remembers these things.

if i really love him, i will be happy for him. i tell myself this every time i have to walk away. i chose this, i did this to myself. but hey, someone drew stargirl on my ankle while i was asleep. i'm alive. it hurts, but i'm still alive. 

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