Can I Just Be Selfish For A Moment?

By now, I could just assume that you have forgotten about me and moved forward with your life. I could only imagine you barely ever think of me anymore as feeling is at the bottom of your concern list. It’s okay. I understand, and I’m happy for you. This is just me trying to deal with whatever is left of me and of us, just my heart exploring a path she has never walked down before, without choice. I’m not asking anything from you. I’m not going to bother you. I just need to ease the pain to keep on going. So can I just be selfish for a moment and say the things I shouldn’t be saying…?

I want you. I still want you. I don’t say a word to you but I miss you more than I could handle. People look at me and they think, I’m doing well, I’m strong, I will get over anything and anyone. Maybe they’re right. But they don’t know the depth of me. They don’t know the real taste of my drinks, the silent tears smudging my mascara on the train ride home. They don’t know the no’s I said to the men who wanted to make me happy, not because I didn’t want to be happy but because my senses had been numbed by the hollowness of my soul. They don’t know the haunting memories that made my chest want to explode sometimes. They aren’t me. No one is me. No one knows you the way I do.

See, the world tries to convince me I only want the idea of you and how you made me feel, but they’re wrong. It’s not everything. I see you. And I know once I’m let inside that rain forest of yours, bringing with me my own universe of wonders, I will feel both like home and like we’re building a spaceship. My brain might not remember exactly what happened but I did use a cool memory trick to preserve the entirety of us. Do you want to know? I consciously registered my emotional states and their meaning to me, my perception of you and our body and mind connection as it happened. It was real and it was genuine. I know why I felt what I felt and I know your eyes weren’t lying.

I realise that it isn’t hard to get over a love affair but it’s hard to be constantly reminded of how yearning my soul is and how nothing could quite measure up to those stolen hours we shared. I feel for you and I wish I could actually show you but there’s already someone there, someone who cares about you in all meanings of that word, quoted you. Well, fuck that. You think I can’t? You think if I ever had a chance, I wouldn’t do? You think this heart isn’t big enough, this mind isn’t mature enough? I’m never too confident about anything, especially not your feelings for me but about my depth, I’m. I’m also sure that I’m being very stupid. Childish. Delusional even.

These feelings are useless. I can’t even tell you I want you and I know you can’t do anything about it. You might not even care about it anymore. I guess, at least, I hope I wasn’t just a fantasy, a lost thought, a weak moment, a hidden secret, a regrettable mistake. I hope I wasn’t just an ex like any other exes of yours. I wasn’t just a random girl in London whose name you can’t recall by the next winter. I hope you see me too, and you get the unordinary, explosive way I see life. I hope… I don’t know. I’m still in pain. I don’t know what’s next. I take care of myself and my life so well, yet I can’t control this mess.

This is a nightmare that will never end.

Then stop dreaming. 

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