I think this will help. Penning down this letter to you, although never ever sending it! I love you! Wtf! Right? But for some weird reason I love you. And I love you in a way where I want to see you in broad day light and appreciate the details on your face. I want to memorize ever contour and how your lips curve into that shy smile when I tell you how badly I want to kiss you. Fuck, I love you! And I hate myself for this.
You see, I am stuck again. I can’t make a choice. Whether I want you or myself? The thing is it has finally come down to this; you or me. You are not what I want in life. You are broken baby, beautifully broken. The kind of broken which makes my heart skips a beat. But the harsh truth is I am broken too. I don’t know what to do. The more I decide to take care of you and make things comfortable for you, the more I have to compromise on my mental health and my well-being.
You are taxing baby. You are a disappointment. You trigger the pain I hide within me. You give me nights full of tears. You are the reason behind my pain. And I should let you go. But for some weird unexplainable reason I have fallen in love with you and I can’t let you go.
Pain doesn’t fascinate me. Pain doesn’t do anything anymore. All I know at this point is that even the pain that we choose for ourselves doesn’t show any mercy. Yet pain is the most merciful thing I have ever encountered.
It’s nice to write all these things and end it with, “I will stay because I love you; I will take the pain because I love you; I will fight because I love you.” It’s all so romantic and full of the promise of love and tragic and beautiful.
But the thing is, every night, when I count and I realize it has been a month since we have seen each other, or 31 days, or 32 and today 34 days; it kills me. I die a little every night. I don’t know what to do. What to make of the fact that although you wouldn’t meet me, you’d talk to me every night for some time. Or the fact that you’d lie to me to avoid meeting me. Or that you’d say goodnight but spend another 10 hours on twitter. You make me feel like an option. Like that song on the playlist that we don’t particularly like but don’t delete either. You are making me question my own self. And I can’t forgive you for that.
We have known each other for 3 months now. You haven’t made any false promises etc. You have been broken before. Shit has happened to you. And there are a number of barriers to break before I make you feel comfortable. You have layered yourself and distanced yourself. And you won’t allow yourself to love. And it sounds all very romantic, for me to be patient and give you the time to rediscover your faith in love. But what about me honey?
What about the broken that I am? What about me? And what about everything? What if I put myself through the torture to make you feel comfortable and then you walk away and find another girl. I have been in that position before. It feels like I fix people so that they can go and love other people. Now I feel like maybe I should focus on myself and fix myself and love myself. But that means letting you go. Letting you go for forever perhaps. Letting you go.
I don’t know what to do. I can’t take a call. I love you and I hope one day you will love me back too.
Forever in search of love and comfort,