You're my hero, just saying <3 (as a friend)

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You, make, a fool of me.

Check your phone, check Facebook. Check Twitter – email? What about Whatsapp? Even LinkedIn? You can see if they’ve viewed your profile. Instagram? Thank you, they liked a picture from a few months back. They must love you.

Doesn’t matter what you said in the past. The promises fall like ashes from a cigarette. The I-love-you-so-muches. The I-love-you-to-the-moon-and-back-and-back-up-agains. Why did we waste so much energy caring? Why did we waste all those scented candles and pizzas? The chocolate covered strawberries and midnight walks? The orangey glow from street lamps reflecting in your eyes. So so beautiful. We’d both tilt our heads back and stare at the glittery sky for ages the minute one of us would mention the word ‘stars’. Our minds were connected – you’d always be finishing off my senten-.

What now? Falling in love is the easiest thing you will ever do. And falling out of love hurts like a bitch – especially when you’re the only one doing it. And that’s what’s funny; you’d only ever fall out of love by yourself. It’s never mutual. The other person is already there. They don’t love you anymore. They’ve crossed that bridge – to the bright, sunny, warm other side. They found the light at the end of the fucking tunnel. And what that means for you is that you’re stuck in complete and utter darkness, you can’t move out of it, can’t move on.

What’s left? It’s like you’re drowning but a piece of driftwood floats by. You grab on to it, but it’s not there. It’s like you imagined it. The most basic human instinct is to survive right? Even your imagination is trying to save you. It tries to make you swim on, against the current. Be strong. But the minute you realize the driftwood isn’t really there, you lose hope. You stop struggling, you allow yourself to be consumed by the body of water. It envelops you, binds you to it, until it finally becomes a part of who you are. You’ve lost yourself.

The problem with metaphors is they can make you feel something you don’t.

The biggest loss, is realizing you lose the memories. When you felt like nothing could stop you. You didn’t care if people thought you were weird.

“Them say we’re crazy,

What do they know?

Put your arms around me,

Baby don’t ever let go”

That was it really, wasn’t it? It’s never really about them; it’s about how they make you feel. Like you could dance on top of a moving train, or jump on to the back of the tube like James Bond in Skyfall. You’re invincible. It doesn’t matter if you look stupid or cheesy or pathetic. You’re not on your own.

Except now, you are on your own. Indisputably, and irrefutably.

Those words make this seem a whole lot more dramatic than it really is.

It doesn’t matter that people have been through the same. It doesn’t count, because no way in hell does it make you feel better when people say ‘I know what you’re going through, I know how you feel.’

No, you don’t.

Should I make it worse? Dig in the knife? Lemon in the paper cut?

It’s your fault.

If it wasn’t your fault, why are you the only one losing?

They’re fine; everyone else who ‘went through it’ is fine. ‘You need time’. Really? It feels like I’ve had all the time in the world. And it hasn’t made one bit of difference.

You have people to listen. And you feel guilty taking up their time, you feel stupid and silly and insignificant every time you bring it up. Why does it have to be the topic of conversation every time you meet your friends? Why do you have to tell new people you meet about it? Why did you tell the lady who was giving you a manicure at the Hotel in Singapore about it?

It does help to talk.

But once that’s done, it isn’t great to think about what those people must think of you. What do they think now? What do those lovely, down-to-earth people think of me after I told them those things? ‘What a wreck’ probably.

I don’t blame them.

But it doesn’t stop you telling more people. In fact, you can see the miracle of how small the world is, when more than one person you mentioned it to, has actually been in a relationship with them.

Way to save your dignity, if there was even any left.

You lost all that a while ago.

Time hasn’t made you stronger. Even if it didn’t kill you – it left you bruised and weakened.

You want to be brave, beautiful – better?

They’ve made you into their clown, someone to sneer at, to laugh at. To look down on. You’re a fool. They’ve made a fool of you.

Stop being a fool.

Conditioned with reflex actions that lead you to be defensive. Whatever I did wrong, you did more wrong, etc etc. Lets start with the beginning of the end.

‘If you read my mind, you’ll see I’m crazy for you.’

Whenever lightning strikes, the things buried within your heart have a way of coming out. You reach to the other side of the bed, in search of comfort, protection, illusion. No one’s there. You take your phone out and type in the number you know so well, having deleted it a billion times before, before thinking clearly. You shake your head, place it under your pillow. Only to take it out again and message them with an ‘I miss you, sorry if I woke you.’ They reply sooner than you thought, ‘Miss you too, don’t worry, I’m up, the lightning woke me lol.’

* * *

Isn’t it scary how you see this as a way in? You exploit every single conversation for your own gain, see what they’re doing, see where they’re working, if they’ve passed their driving test, if they’re seeing anyone etc.

The kindness never lasts long though. Like fireflies they’re glimmers of hope. You cherish them all though. ‘We didn’t end because I stopped loving you, thanks for being there, I’m always on your side.’

Trying hard to control my heart, I walk over to where you are.

Don’t stop now, you’re nearly there.

Being cool is being your own self, not doing something that someone else is telling you to do.
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I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT ‪#‎Music‬
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