They say once you fall in love, you lose control over all your senses. I did. Yes, I did. Every time I thought I was in love, which is, well, most-of-the-time; I had no power over the way I felt each time. Every time I thought I loved someone deeply, I thought the feeling was mutual. “This world doesn’t work on the simple logic of give and take,” my friends would tell me while I would just yell at them saying, “I know it does, at least, in my world- it does.” Until, I realized my world wasn’t separate from anyone else. The day I saw my world shatter, six years ago, I realized how my world is linked to the world of many others surrounding me. And now it’s linked to the person reading about my world, which is no one but you.
Six years ago, I was the popular teen whom every one wanted to befriend. Until they found out that the 18-year-old who I was dating, cheated on me with six other girls from the same school I attended. The twelve-year-old me, became a laughing stock. Rumors about me getting pregnant were the new hotshot news in the town. And, I was the new loner who would look into the mirror every day finding faults in her face. I would read new excuses online before appearing at school, so I could miss the sports period where I was the center of attraction for all the bystanders who witnessed my movements with the eye of an eagle. I was scared. But I missed him at the same time. Maybe, because whatever he had done, he was my emotional support throughout. I had allowed him within my shell. I permitted him to peek in to the deepest and darkest holes in my heart. I had always been deprived of love from my parents and he catered for all that I needed. But now he was gone. I had pushed him away yet I wanted to bring him back.
And I did. I got him back into my life because I was vulnerable and weak and desperate. I left him when I found another guy worthy of my attention. I had already stopped loving my first, but I never really let him go. First love is the most difficult to forget they say. And they may not be wrong in this, unlike the other times, when they always are. I may not have had strong reasons. But now I did. I had found another one, who seemed more worth it.
I loved him more. I loved him more than I loved the first one, and he just bestowed upon me worse faith. For five years, I struggled and I cried, I laughed and I sighed. I did not understand him. I still don’t. I might never find out if he ever loved me or not, until recently, when I figured out he probably did not. And honestly, I stopped caring. After five years and several other distractions in between I found another man when I almost gave up on love. I thought I would never be able to love. I became the “hook-up” kinds; I liked being called a slut (even though that was rarely the case). I wanted to become the “bitch” and the “bad girl,” the “heartbreaker,” but reality was splashed on my face. I fell for another once again.
I wanted to take it all slow. For five years, I was emotionally tortured and now I didn’t know how to react to this new change. But it all came like a fresh breeze. Once again I thought my broken heart could be healed.
It almost is. I have never felt this way before. The way he holds me and hugs me, I have never felt more loved. Deep within, I am scared that I might lose it all once again. And maybe, I will but I won’t give up on love like I once did. I trust him. He seems different from all the others. I know he can keep me and even though I am prepared for another heartbreak, I just hope that will never be.