The most cruel thing I’ve ever told a girl is “I can never love you” and before the lynch squad is organised and pitch forks gathered, I’ll tell you of things karma and others blunt (not the weed).
Relationships have never been easy and sometimes I try to adopt a philosophical approach towards them but it doesn’t quite cut due to inexperience, age or a touch of both; never been sure which.
She was young and pretty with pink soft lips that tasted like nectar. Like all others before and after her, she was enamoured by this guy with traits of a split personality and extremes in moods and behaviour, and like most others she discovered it can burn sometimes. Her eyes haunt me each time we meet, the innocence gone and memories of the hurt I involuntarily put there. Whenever on the phone I can feel her silent accusation on why she turned cynical. Why I like to avoid emotional contact, that’s part of the reason.
I’ve never found it hard to interact with the fairer sex especially when in my comfort zone. Having a female best friend was a good thing overall, but definitely a thorn in the side relationshipwise. Apparently most girls aren’t willing to stick around knowing of the disadvantage that you probably love your best friend more than you ever will them. But that is also neither here nor there since you have to breakdown the different types of love.
If I was to lift up my left hand to count the number of times I’ve been in love, I guess I could comfortably donate my thumb to research, give the little finger to my fish as a light snack and have serious consideration to where the middle finger would be required, and still have more than enough fingers left for my count.
I’m not ashamed to admit to have been in love. It took the cynicism away. Although I never get it how people fall in love over and over again, I have enough sense to appreciate they lead richer more satisfying lives than I ever will.
Being into the same person always is never an easy thing. Having the need yet the circumstances never letting you be is like being in a glass house on either side of a wall looking at each other. You place your hand at the spot she is placing hers and can’t feel the softness. All you can do is look at each other and tap to let each other know you’re still there; hoping a door will be found, or maybe somebody will throw a stone and shatter the whole thing, and cut and bruised you will fix each others wounds but at least finally you will be together.
But life isn’t that simple, is it? Whenever you get that person who loves you the way you do them, fate will always find a way to make sure you can’t be, because, lets admit it, life is not a tv show.
Whenever you find that person that loves you, circumstances will be ripe for you two to hook up, but your heart will be that big empty hole with longings for another(refer to the opening statement). And so all the options are there but never in your favour. Isn’t life grand?
Whenever cynicism and philosophy fail you do as I do; convince yourself, since you’re alive maybe there’s a reason and a chance. Many “maybes” constitute to a whole lot of “probablys” which overall means there’s a chance (forgive the ill constructed grammar); and a chance is way better than nothing. Maybe you will get out of the glass house and maybe you will reach each other, and maybe you will find another.
That line of logic barely works for me, but it’s a world better than hopelessness. Love is a gift, but it’s not in your hands who you give it to.
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