It's not your fault that he/ she left you. You keep thinking, questioning yourself, hundred times a day, of where it went wrong, what did you not do right. Questioning if it is because you are not good-looking if you're not a better person. That whether or why you are not enough.
But, No. You are enough. It is not your fault they left. It is not your freckles or your hair that chased them away. It is not your voice or your colour. It is neither your attitude nor your character. It is not because you are ignorant or " you argued a lot."
Sometimes love/relationship just doesn't work out and that is okay. I know it pains you, I know think you will never find true love, I know you think you're too old to find love again. But, despite everything, real love will find you. It will find you when you are crying, trying to hide your ugliest scars. And it will stay. It will find you at the most unpredictable time and knocks you off your feet. It will find you and will love you for all the reasons you thought people left you for.
//If I will ever want to know a person, I will want to know their fears. Fears that will keep them awake at 3 at night.//
As a girl and as a woman, I am afraid of marriage like any other normal girl or any other woman. I am afraid that he will not love me as I am. I am afraid I will have to hide my true self to get validated. I am afraid that I will become a closed-off person like with a stranger or with the ones I am not close to. Or worse, I am afraid I will rant or talk my heart out, and he wouldn't pay attention. I am afraid he'll always question my loyalty because I had a relationship when I was 21. I am afraid my in-laws will taunt me in everything I do. I am afraid that they will treat me badly or worse as a charity case 'cause I have no one. I am afraid because I have no one and nowhere to run when they hurt me. No one to sympathize with and no one to empathize.
As a woman, I am afraid to have children. Weird, isn't it? But I am. I am afraid my child will be judged even before it is born. I am afraid my child has to live up to the societal norms. I am afraid my child will be bullied for being different. I am afraid my child will suffer from depression at the age of 11. I am afraid my child will be all alone with no one to confide in, 'cuz their mother is not available, 'cuz she is working her arse off, as my mother. I am afraid my child would lie on the bed, cry into the pillow, and think of suicide as I did as a child and adult. I am afraid my child will feel all alone trapped in his/her mind and will hesitate to ask for help. I am afraid someone will tell my child it's all in the head and he/she will believe it. I am afraid my child will have to live without their mother to protect them from this world, like I am living now.
#mattandjenny I am an addict Addicted to the smell of you in my poetry.
Before, I was different, emotionless, or cold if you want to call it. After you, everything changed, I changed. My playlist changed, the lyrics I used to listen to sound different, sounded alive. All those love songs which once I used to call 'cheesy' or swipe them next rolling my eyes became all I listen to. Every song hummed a melody of you.
You were that 'you' for me in every love song I used to listen to and slowly turned to be my muse. And now I sing songs written on your name while I lie in a mess of whiskey, cigarettes, and a heap of torn papers. Papers that held your name or the millions of songs I wrote on your name. I still write, Matt, the irony is it's nothing but your name. And it's still the best poem I ever wrote.
Every day, I get drunk, drunk, and sad, thinking about all the reasons you could have stayed for. Remembering all those times you made me dance even though I'm bad at it. And all those times you slept over, where we did less sleeping and more talking. I remember all those long conversations. They are both blessing and curse.
Idk why, but this particular memory stabs me every day. It's the day we went shopping. More of like I dragged you shopping with me. That day, after shopping, we were walking through the busy streets, holding hands. I asked you "what is love, Matt?" Out of nowhere. You stumbled in your step but got hold in a sec and said "IDK, Jenny, why do you ask?" I murmured a "just"
You stopped in track and pulled me back with you, stared into my eyes, and said "IDK what love is Jenny, but if I have to explore it, I would do it with you." It left me speechless, but my blush spoke volumes you said.
Like a kid gets fond of one particular toy, I got fond too, except it has life. Or, he has life. I got pretty fond of him in a very short while. I was surprised at how fast he grew on me. I mean, he's not my ideal type. Hell, he seems like someone who would make me pay for every heart I broke in the past and present. And I still fell for him.
He will embrace you one minute and pushes you away the next. He'll say trying and talking are things that let a relation flourish and he can be the perfect example of a closed-off person. He tries to heal you one minute and break you more the next minute. And he's not subtle about it either. "Then why the hell did you fall for him" inner me yells, twice a second. Hell if I know the answer!
Ours was a typical love story. A story that began under the summer starry sky. We talked heartbreak, we talked love, we talked fate, we talked poetry. Until the day he knows everything about me, and me about him. I know, he was not what I wanted, or what I need. But I fell for him, unknowingly, unexplainably. One minute I was listening, the other I fell. Only, I don't know which 'other' minute it was. He said he would leave, one day. And I promised, under those same stars, that I would move on.
I laughed at everyone, got annoyed at anyone who says they couldn't move on. "You are just not trying hard," was my reply, always. Until I have to move on from an almost relationship. I understood that it was never about trying. It is more about fighting. Fighting the urge to call, text and thinking about getting back. Fighting the memories waking you up from the nightmares about being together. Fighting the unbearable yet all-consuming pain. The pain you crave and dread.
//I loved him, thinking he would complete me. He left, with vital pieces of mine, leaving me further incomplete. Just like this write-up//
//I made a jar of smiles Every piece of paper has your name on it//
They say to make a jar of smiles, so we can open them when we are low, read them, and remember all those good times. All those happy moments. So I made one. And all of them holds your name, Matt, like a possession. They remind me how happy we were.
The irony is, the jar of smiles, did nothing to make me smile. All it did is, break me a little more, into pieces, with every piece of paper I open. They were reminders of both, how happy we were, and how we can't be anymore. And, Matt, that breaks me every day.
I opened this one chit, which has today's date on it, "we went to the park for the first time" it read. I remember that day clearly, we woke up late and decided to hit the road without having breakfast. You are riding the bike, we stopped at a place, a place whose existence is unaware to me! Funny how it's my hometown!
I want to be that fabric of poetry That you weave with love That you knit with care and concern That you decorate with adoration
I want to be that fabric That you hold on to, for warmth, in the cold winter night That you wear all the time, since you're comfortable with it, even on a hot summer day That you use to protect you in rain, that pours down on a stormy rainy afternoon.
I want to be a fabric That elevates your inner beauty That brings the best colours out of you That stick to you like your second skin