Hurting Just A Little Here

The girl was young, no doubt about that. She was only a baby, brought into the world a mere 20 years ago. She thought she was worldly, but the truth was that she only knew the inside of the bubble she was encased in. What she knew of life and love could be likened to the size and volume of a grain of sand lying on a beach big enough to stretch halfway across the world.

But of course she wasn’t aware of that.

Love was the epitome of her life; she lived for it, breathed for it and chased it’s thrilling scent, regardless of the situation. Love was a handsome boy, love was a fleeting flirt, an endlessly improvised construct of the perfect man, who was sweet, kind, sensitive and all that other nonsense. Love to her, was what lay in nonexistent realms- the white knight, the rescuer, the saviour of her grief.

And she continued to grieve.

She had been in and out of relationships, never serious, never allowing them to take her towards the promised path of eternity, or at least a period of eternity that came with an expiry date. She fell in love and fell out just as quickly. Nobody could pierce that bubble, that sheath which she had so cleverly cloaked herself with to remain safe, exposed but at the same time impregnable to those she considered as inferior lovers.

Until she met the boy.

The boy was young, not unlike the girl, and that was perhaps her first mistake. He knew just as little as her, but thought he knew a whole lot more. And there they were in a crowded room, complete strangers staring at one another, challenging each other to make a move. She fulfilled the challenge first.

And after that first night, they embarked on a journey which could only be described as a blur at the best; a cacophony of heartbreak and disillusion at the worst. She fell more swiftly that she ever had before, feeling for the first time as though she were ready to let that protective guard fall to her feet, and offer everything she possessed to him, whether tangible or spiritual, physical or mental. She almost thought- yes, she almost thought- that she was in love with him. The dreaded four letter word, more pain than fun for most, with a capital L and a little e.

She admitted this to him- his cool, calm exterior taking note of it but failing to display any reaction, whether subtle or grand. He was a mysterious one. She fell into the thought of him, it was endless, she poured herself into him until she was almost drained dry, and for him there was no emotion either way. But she liked the fact that she didn’t understand him. He never cared to explain his actions, only doing so when it suited him- like the time he told her that he was incapable of feeling any resemblance of warm, loving emotions towards another female. And, she presumed, that included her. What a catch, what a wonderful catch indeed. A man, so powerful and so toxic in his own right, with such a stronghold over her being, her emotions and her willingness to succumb, and yet a man who was nothing but a boy, too afraid of getting close and invariably running from anybody who loomed near his heart.

And as things deteriorated, she thought about clinging on for dear life, staying around and making him see all the things that she saw. But he had a different pair of eyes, a different vision, a different outlook. He would never share the same feelings. She acknowledged this with quiet resignation one clear, starry night. She couldn’t make him love her- she knew how to physically please him, but psychologically, he was locked away in a steel safe.

And so she resorted to the lowest of lows- offering him her body when it was really her heart that she was toying with. She threw away her sense of pride, her dignity, knowing that she was stooping to such a level only because it allowed her to hold onto him, to some extent. And she was never happy. He clouded her mind, making her unsure, unsafe. Exposed and naked to a pair of indifferent eyes. What a fantastic little situation she had become entangled in.

They had both ruined something, which could have been amazing. She often pondered this. Nothing was the same anymore. Her heart wasn’t in it- where exactly was her heart? She didn’t know. Somewhere along the fall, she had dropped it and left it there, in a barren field of ruined hope. She no longer wanted to be with him, and yet he pervaded her every sense, seeped into every corner of her mind until she became quite certain that he- the notion of him- was a parasite. She couldn’t back away; her feet were still and unmoving. But at the same time, she didn’t put up a fight. The only thing which betrayed her true feelings was the constant dull that she felt, a sickly little storm cloud that dampened her every moment. Unsusceptible to most eyes, and she let it grow, unnoticed.

She was never going to find a replacement, not that she even wanted one. But she needed one. He was the one who had run away with her heart, and in time she would grow a new one, learn to give somebody as much of herself as she had given him. Or so she hoped.