I crave a personal place where I can say what I feel without feeling guilty.
I hate hiding my feelings, but I also feel that maybe I am so perfectly honest with myself about my feelings that I create reasons for why that cannot be, for why I must not feel that way, so to justify why I am completely okay when I should be a wreck.
But as I sit here at 1am I only feel sad because it is 1 am, not because i really am sad. I'm trying to fit the emotional stereotype people usually feel at 1 am, not because I tomorrow when I wake up I will still be drowning in my sadness (because perhaps there is no sadness there at all.)
everything is a metaphor at 1 am.
the boys i loved for(n)ever
i do not miss the first because there is nothing to miss. he came and i loved nothing but what i felt as a result of the nothing (happy). i definitely do not regret him because i proved everyone wrong and in the end, i beat them. they might not have realised it then, they probably never will, but i know the joke is on them. i won.
the second was my soulmate, or so it felt. he was my everything, especially since he shaped so much of who i am now. the way he laughed was like sunshine on a sunday morning. i had nothing to hold and i had nothing to go by, so perhaps i loved him even more. i do not know where he is now, if he has a boyfriend, if he's suicidal or if he's the happiest man alive. someday i will do everything i can to find him and see if he became the man i fell in love with.
the third was scary and exciting all at the same time because he was the most real. definitely made me laugh and didn't mind when i spent our first date talking for hours until my mocha ran cold. i was too lonely and too desperate and that was a mistake, and later i consumed myself with letting him go. but i think of him now only with a pleasant reminiscence and wonder if he ever thinks of me too. i feel i should apologise for being such a disaster and sometimes curiosity does make me want to feel him again, and give him a chance to prove that my initial (lack of) sexual interest in him was wrong. sometimes.
the fourth was the first though. wasn't he just? he was perfect in every way i thought possible. i convinced myself i was not the stupid teenage girl that thought that her first love would be her only love, but almost all of me secretly hoped we'd prove everyone wrong. naturally, we did not. he loved me and i loved him with all my heart and more but then he stopped and there was nothing but sadness between us. i felt the worst pain i've ever felt in my life and i didn't know if it would ever end. also, quite naturally, it did. i cannot think of anyone i despise more (not because of what he did to me) than him (because of what he became afterwards). he deserves no more than my bitter memories (of the after) because it (the before) feels like a very very distant memory. i miss that hair, and i miss those arms, and i miss the love, but i do not miss him, and i am sure of that.
i can't quite put a finger on the fifth. he is so perpetually confusing and drives me up and up a wall. i am certain i loved him; i just did not expect that it was the fifth who would help me get over the fourth who would then also, in turn, break my heart. i have the fondest memories of holding his hand, perhaps because it was so innocent (and certainly not what i'm used to.) that innocence is ruined now, as he has seen me naked, emotionally and physically and asked me to do things that all the previous ones also did. it does not make me sad, however. i feel like the fifth is a rollercoaster, and we are currently stuck on a loop. he still makes me laugh and he i guess he is one of my best friends, but somehow i dislike that label. he is just the fifth, the boy who i will probably fuck and use time and time again to soothe my broken heart, just as he uses me, and then to conclude, we will fall madly in love when it really is too late.
the sixth was my favourite (was he though?) I don't know. he also broke my heart, but he was sweet, and mature, sexy, and funny, and different. the best part was that he was home: and my heart (and soul) needed someone like that (as a respite). he was the biggest risk and i got what i deserved, no doubt. i walked right into that one (and i certainly knew it). i guess i am most sad about him (because he is the most recent) but probably because i am still in the haze of losing someone you really did love. i regret nothing (other than sometimes forgetting myself in him) and i hope he thinks of me as fondly as i do him. i really hope we are friends (or lovers again) in the future because i do not want to be the girl who cannot befriend the people she loved (more than friends) once. i try not to be angry or bitter at him because i know that those emotions will only sabotage that chance.
my biggest fear is that i am now the stupid, lonely soul who needs love. i do not want the addiction (though how sweet it is.) i need to love being alone just as much as i love being together, but i no longer sure that i will ever feel that way again. it's so easy to fake love to calm myself and forget the pain (perhaps why i am seeking a temporary romance). there is no pain though.. just craving the feeling. it makes you high in a way mary jane never will, and because 1 am is the loneliest of hours, this is when i crave it most. i do not know the seventh, or the eighth, or the ninth, or at which point the number will stop increasing. i am not even 18 yet and i have loved so many (or so few) boys, and that is extremely daunting. i do not want to need love because i went so many years without it (right?). in the end it just amounts to one thing... i just want to be happy (or something.)
ciao for now,