Clarity's Remedy

The late winter chills have managed to ice my thoughts on the one thing that used to keep me warm at night. You. Not your being or your presence, just this ripple effect you've managed to bring into my life. It's brought about this desire to know rather than to be... You see, I've always managed to lose people in pieces but with you I feel like I'm losing that one-piece, the lengthy exit pierces me. Your laughter, which reminds me of your smile. Your smile, which reminds me of your face, which reminds me of your presence and in turn of your scent. All connected, all one, all gradually fading away into distant memories. You. By the way, I still pick up that unique watermelon and coconut fuse. It's a few minutes past 2am and the nocturnal being within me awakens. I'm sipping from the mug my Dad gave me, on three spoons of bold and strong granules- sugarless, like Monday's test. My desk is cluttered with academic material and the little note C****** gave me reading "Thanks for cheering me up. You really know how to make a girl feel special! You're special! xoxo" Whenever I read that note my monologue questions why I couldn't make you feel that way. The wind brushes against my window and finds its way into my space. Chills. Thoughts. Iced. Have ever yearned for clarity on a decision you consciously made? Not that you regret it but you just can't understand why you got there. Here-how you got here. You see, over the past couple of months I've been seeking some sort of lucidity that I just can't rap my finger around- funny enough because I pulled the trigger. I broke up with you but I still feel entitled to an explanation. I still want you to tell me why I feel like I had to break up with you. I still want you to tell me why I can't stop feeling guilty for making you cry when I was hurting more. Yesis! The wind is flippant, it's strength and sound alternates with the volume of my thoughts. Silence has taken its rightful place and I can no longer hear it trying to be loud. Don't you just hate it when that happens? But anyway... You. The stagnant thought is followed by a parade of questions and an avalanche of issues. This desire for clarity has had me questioning my own sanity though. How can one's own conscious decision, which is normally made out of certainty, makes you feel so uncertain? Call it human, I call crazy. Here's what galvanized my conscious decision. Most importantly, I felt like my affection didn't reciprocate. You knew that my passionate demeanour demands at least some sense of mutuality. But Dololo. The I love you firsts, the misses, the kisses and the sex (my God, I miss the sex) were not things that made me appreciate us. Everyone can do that. I appreciated those short lived, very few, moments of just breathing in your silence or resting in your arms. Just letting our energies synchronise so deep that everything around us just stops and we're lost in this vibrational trans. So deep that whoever came in the room breathed the love. Wait for the echo. I appreciated the deep stare downs where I almost lost myself, when I'd just appreciate the pulchritude you displayed so effortlessly. I appreciated the hugs! And when you'd lick my face- you're so weird! :) The problem was those were short lived and very little. Relive the echo. You made me feel guilty for trying to hold you again, for drooling at you, for being in an appreciative stance, for initiating affection. You broke my heart when you just didn't smile anymore- when you questioned my legitimacy. When I just couldn't absorb your energies anymore. When you just didn't smile anymore. Second to this, you just didn't talk to me. I always felt like you didn't trust me when you were weak. In you, I heard a thousand screams all desperately unlucky. You were like a ballerina, so light on your feet fearing to wake me up to massage your feet. Fearing to wake me up because even though you elegantly camouflaged your pain away with dance, you knew I would see your legs tremble in that split second. Cunning- like a Houdini trick. Majestic though, fucking brilliant. But you blindsided my offer to pick you up when you were down. I get that you're strong and I love that about you but I provided a platform you needed. I was honestly ultimately forced to sympathise with you at the eleventh hour when you had already crashed. You made me mourn with you and made us heal separately. You made me mourn with you and made us heal separately. You pierced me when I had to suppress my own issues to deal with yours. Dealing with your struggles was so tiring because they were your struggles, never ours. I often had to break the fourth wall in my own life. So yes, because of that- I cheated. My urges could no longer stagnate and I cheated on you emotionally so many times. The challenges of being so emotionally impulsive galvanized a series of attempted personal interventions that proved futile. So I found solace in somebody else's energy. I found somebody who listened to me, who spoke to me. I found somebody who spoke to me. I found somebody who spoke to me. The end result: Two people flirting with this dull limbo position. And so the perpetual pursuit of perfection disappeared. So maybe I was just asking for too much, I don't know. Forgive me if I'm just plain daff but tell me why I had to break up with you again? Tell me why we couldn't fix this. Why we didn't fix this. Babe, tell me why we didn't talk. Was I in the wrong for seeking emotional attention far from home? Affirmative. Was I in the wrong for being too busy for you sometimes? Affirmative. I've never deserved the title of Best Boyfriend and I don't expect it. Just acknowledge that I tried like how I acknowledged that you tried. Maybe you just didn't try hard enough. Maybe as it was, it was nothing. I retired to where I was before, where you were a mere spectator and all you did was watch me for hours on end.

Too experienced to be shocked. Just like you can't de-hug a person, you can't possibly de-love a person. I still got mad love for you. Your human is absolutely beautiful. Don't get it twisted, I'm not asking for you back. Like I said, I don't regret my decision. I'm just doing this because it's cold and writing is life. It's as therapeutic as your love for ******* ******, **** or the *** ***. It can cut the string of questions that connect me to you because clearly my friendship invitation has been left nebulously lingering in our favourite limbo position. Best.