Bonafide Love

These days..months..years…I have a lot of time to think about what it is I want, what to look for.  Truth is, I don’t.  I don’t know what I want or what I’m looking for; I think that will just cross my path when it’s meant to and that’s it.  I probably already said that before.  I’m repetitive in areas I believe in.

If I could burn calories from running away from past and potential loves, I would be super skinny right now.

There’s just so many positions I don’t want to play.

That betraying feeling lingers in the air above and just flows through your veins like blood.  For a long time.

The dishonesty.  The disloyalty.  The lies.  It feels like a poison.  And the worst of it all – the questions.  I never want to wonder about shit I won’t have answers to.  You heal, and then you break all over again when it’s finally time to close that chapter in your life.  The pictures, the clothing, the smells.  It all just stays there like stone.

But.  You heal.. again.

I will truthfully tell you that falling in love again will be the toughest challenge to get through.  Tougher than that will be falling out when you have no other choice.  There will be doors that you will be so afraid to unlock.  There will be so much pressure coming from your mind and coming from your heart and you won’t even know what the fuck to think.  Falling in love (again), for me, was worse than the first for so many reasons.  Grasping on to something that is there but just isn’t quite close enough.  Only breathing in the air between you and me.  Depending on this only connection to make up for the lost ones.  I walked down that one way street with expectations, and walked back with disappointments.  Watching him come, watching him go.  I have never felt so damn alone until once reality actually, and finally, hit me.  This time, the worst thing wasn’t the unanswered questions.  It was losing myself.  It still brings me to a very pensive, fragile state and I somehow lead myself down a road of a dry cry.  But I don’t think it’s because I lost him.  Truth is, I never had him.  We were at two opposite ends of the stick and just could not meet in the middle.  At this point you’re probably thinking how did she feel this way about something she never fully had?  That part isn’t meant for you to know or understand.  It’s this: It’s because I lost myself.  I don’t think I ever really felt how cold it was at rock bottom until I noticed I was there.  So when I look at pictures, hear him singing in my head, or I see things that trigger his memory, it’s because it all points to one thing that really shook me the most.  Where did I go after he went?  I felt it again.. I felt that love is the worst pain.

It’s ok to lose yourself, but I did not find any comfort in losing myself over him.  Over a man.  

Any way, what is love?

And, maybe, I just fell in love with the memories we made rather than with him.

It’s like that sometimes.  You reach a mental climax that all you have are if’s and maybe’s.

It fucks you up after awhile.  After the first sting, you think: you live and learn.  After the second: okay….I barely lived, loved a lot, what did I learn?  I don’t know what I learned from that second blow.  I mean, I know if it was there, if it was really there, it could have been good.  I know who I am.  I provide life and stability for whoever my partner is.  I am the one that will dance and sing, and make jokes to whatever extent I want, I am the one that will tell you truth whether you fucking asked for it or not, and I will be the one to say “okay, where do we go from here?  How do we fix this”.  I will be the one to help lay out those little, tiny steps in front of you if you don’t know how to get where you want to go by yourself.  I am all that and so much more.  So to know that that wasn’t enough for someone … then what the fuck is?  What else could someone want?  All I want to do is go to sleep and wake up next to you.

I am not about giving up when I don’t want to.  So when I had to, it took a lot of tossing and turning to come to terms with it.  I don’t follow this generation of breaking up and making up, or if you don’t like it then leave.  What is the problem?  I get it, baby.  It’s fucked up.  But we’re doin’ alright.  Leave it to me, you know I’ll fix it.

Before a couple days ago, I don’t know how long it has been since I gave a guy my number.  You really don’t know hard it was for me to do that.  I smiled after.  I really did feel proud of myself.  It doesn’t matter if it leads to friendship or romance, I went out of the comfort zone I’ve been in for years.  I turned into that person.  I turned into that person with a chip on her shoulder.  I don’t even know how to flirt anymore.  Serious.   We all go on our own romantic roller-coaster, but when that shit finally comes to an end – you really just want it to end.  No more, no more. (baby, I’ma do right?)  I forced myself to take note on all the good shit I’m missing about relationships, and I just can’t keep myself in solitary anymore.  I have to share life with someone, because there is always someone to do that with.  Yes, it takes time and effort and maybe a couple wrong ones but you eventually find that person.  I just lack patience.

I have to stop running.

Just tell me you get it.

1,054 words about a craving a bonafide, maybe a little fucked up, love.




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