My previous experience with love taught me that love is eternal. It happens once and only once in a lifetime with that one person who is nothing but perfect for you.
It didn’t work because I didn’t deserve to have it. I did not deserve the perfect love that I was so fortunate to have at some point in my life. Even if it was for just over a year and a half, it was still pure, true, godly and complete.
Both sides agreed within parameters of experimental error. Physical and mental barriers did not constrict us.
We didn’t suffocate each other. It was like we had walked out of each others’ dreams into our realities and just belonged to each other.
It didn’t work though. I was an imbecile. I let him go because I lied to him. I didn’t cheat on him nor did I do anything behind his back. He was my first boyfriend so there were no exes in the picture either. I had kept one secret from him regarding myself and kept trying to gather the courage to tell him. Turns out, I never got that courage.
He vanished, for that was the wise thing to do. For him. He needed the space to break free and fly away.
And I stood there, inside the cage where we both once sat, looking at the empty spot beside me and weeping.
Three years whizzed past. The brevity of life had me conjuring up my own little reveries with him. I was determined to find him and make him mine again. I wanted to be his and his alone.
It is never this easy.
I met someone else through an extremely unexpected medium. I didn’t expect this man to break the shell I had created around myself. But he did. With his loving and magical words and his charming personality, he just broke me apart to fix me up again and he did just that.
And here I learnt my second lesson. Messiahs don’t just enter your lives like that.
I thought he was my Messiah.
I was in love again. And within a short span of two weeks or less.
I told him how I felt. It made him happy. But he said nothing in return.
What’s the point then? It was all in futility.
And with time, things went sour. I went sour. My love, too, went sour when he confessed certain things about his life.
But yes I still love him.
He doesn’t love. I, on the one hand, think he is the luckiest man alive if he doesn’t or can’t fall in love. No heartbreaks or misery in his life. But on the other hand, it is so lifeless that I do feel sorry for him. Love is an enriching and beautiful feeling. I almost gave up on it but realized that it is only to my detriment to do so.
For his sake, I really hope that someday, he does fall in love.
And I learnt lesson three.
Never confess your love first. Your partner might not agree. He might stress out and panic and eventually leave you with a hole.
I will never confess my love for anyone ever again.
The first time I did that, it worked. The response was the same.
The second time, it wasn’t. It probably never will be. The odds aren’t in my favour this time. Things might work out and that hope keeps me going. That said, deep down I feel that he doesn’t want things to work out. So that is definitely demotivating. If he wanted it to work, he would at least try.
I am not comparing both men. Each is different from the other. Each has his own character, personality, plus and minus points. But one thing is certain. Both made me happy in their own way.
In hindsight, I was probably mistaken about love in the first place. Maybe it’s my fault. I am the weak link here.
Yes. I am the weak link.
And with this revelation, I walk towards the mirror to set myself on fire.