Pieces of Peace: Midnight ramblings for a soulmate

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Photo by Alex Robert via Unsplash

 

Is there such a thing as soulmates in the romantic sense of the term? I once thought a past love of mine was my soulmate. Though my evidence was shallow and my reasons could be pure coincidences and not handed out by fate. Now, 12:20 a.m on the clock I stay up wondering if you are my soulmate. Could you be the one I would spend the rest of my life with? Or are you another person to fill the time until the universe hands me my actual soulmate?

But there is no doubt in my mind that I love you. I love you so much, in fact, I feel guilty for harmless fantasies. I sound a little crazy, it could be the alcohol talking or my drowsiness catching up with my train of thought.  But I do love you that even in my imagination I could not want to hurt you.

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Falling Apart and Burning

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I am sitting in a burning room and all I can say is that I am fine. By the next few minutes, I would be buried with my ruins of my sanity. I am watching flames dance until everything becomes ashes along with my desire to live. Turned off my phone, my Wifi, and social life.  I do not need a public confession of what is spinning in my head. Even loneliness left me by midnight.

Pieces of Peace: My Anxiety is not Romantic

 

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My anxiety is not romantic. My anxiety is not a fetish you can bring into the bedroom.  Someone told you that someone with anxiety is a great lover.  You believe because of my constant need of validation that everything will be okay; I will pour my energy into our relationship.  You are sadly mistaken because I have no energy left to give.

It is not cute when I wake up in the morning. My alarm goes off and I hit snooze. What I do is this; I lay there on the bed feeling this heavy weight on my body.  I try to find the reason why until I’ve come up with a dozen conclusions on why I should get up. But instead, I lay there for an extra ten minutes because I am exhausted.

There are days I jolt up and my heart is racing. I have been thinking about the same problem from the night before and I hate myself that I haven’t found a solution. And even if I did, I probably woke up thinking my solution would just add to the problem. There are days I wake up crying because I have no idea what to do.

There are days I’d wake up three in the morning thinking about the context of a day old conversation.  Or worry about how I may not have enough money in my account until my head conjures up worse case scenarios. Until I’d start to sweat, my stomach churning, and my heart trying to beat out of my chest. There are nights I feel like the Tell Tale Heart because I hear a heartbeat in the room deafening me.

Though I should’ve just went back to sleep rather than keep myself up all night.  If I try to fall asleep all I do is fidget, toss, and turn. I’d think about every problem in my life, from point A to point Z. Only to find it coming back to me.  If it wasn’t for me I wouldn’t have anxiety. Yes, I know it does not make any sense.

Will you still find my anxiety cute when I get an anxiety attack? It feels like I’m choking on air, my heart is trying to beat out of my chest, and everything is hazy. Would you still find it cute when I walk through a crowd trying to steady my breathing? Or would you feel like you are saving me? It would be nice to have a shoulder to lean on. Someone to talk to about my frequent bursts of irrationality rather than hide it and pretend I am okay.

Darling, I need a friend, not a knight or a soldier. Better yet tell me that I should seek help. I do not want you to say that you want to fix me because I am not broken. I am sick, not a jigsaw puzzle.

So please, my anxiety is not a character trait. It is an illness. I need a doctor, not a lover. I am not broken.

Pieces of Peace: “New Love, past pieces”

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Now explain to me this: how can you possibly love me?

How you can love someone so damaged baffles me because I can’t see what you see. But I would like to welcome you here, where every single one of my relationships came to die.

Oh they’re all still alive; they just decided they were better off living without me though there were moments where I was the one who cut the ties and declined the pending relationship status. However I rather not explain moments or misinterpreted words and going into full detail about what led to our demise.

Instead let me introduce to you the pieces I mention in most of my work, actual pieces, things they gave before deciding to call it quits. Before one of us grew tired of the other and before one of us chose someone else.

Fair warning, my past loves are not exactly picturesque.

Here’s the first piece a worn out shirt, it’s still in my closet buried beneath most of my other clothes. Its red, his favourite colour and it was mine too for a brief time. Because I was fourteen and forcing myself to believe we were soul mates. So stupid to fall for the first boy to give me the attention I thought I deserved. I watched too many romantic comedies if you asked me, because when a boy smiled and said the kindest of words I was hooked.

Three days later he called me crazy and we broke up after fighting about something so insignificant only two teenagers would find it as a reason to break up.

And now the next piece is a cliché, the usual gift for your first month together. It’s a teddy bear; I cuddled it as much as we did. It’s still on my desk because it fits the aesthetics. When I’m drunk and thinking of him I stare at the bear wondering every single what if. He was “the one that got away” in other words I was a clueless bitch who didn’t understand how a relationship worked. I loved his company yet I didn’t show it.

He gave me flowers, I scoffed at the bouquet and said hated roses then he gave me chocolates I ate them of course. He never asked for anything so I never gave.

I wonder if he thought of me as often as I thought of him. Looking back at how we left things, I was apologizing and I forgot what for. But I do remember him leaving me in the cafe because he didn’t want to fight anymore.

The third one is on my bookshelf, it’s been sitting there for a while collecting dust. It’s a book, a pretty good one too. I didn’t know him well but I did wish he came with a premise so I knew what to expect. Instead I was impressed with his words and blindsided by his plot twist, a week before Christmas he decided I was only worth two weeks.

I never actually finished the book but I always tell people it’s my favourite. When in fact it’s not, I think the only lines I’ve re-read over and over were the ones he wrote on the front page hoping that I’d love his gift.

I did for a moment because I was so in love with him that I associated my feelings with the book and the only reason why it’s still on my shelf is because even if he didn’t stay doesn’t mean the book has to pay the price for his stupid mistake.

I can stop if you want; because I already mentioned three out of five and yes I’ve shortened the list for your benefit. You do not need to know the others because most of them are in the trash. You might want to walk away now before I get to the last two. Honestly I wouldn’t even blame you.

So here’s our fourth piece, like it? It’s another cliché it’s his jacket. It’s too big for me; I don’t know why I still have it. I even washed it because I didn’t like the smell of beer and cigarettes

I thank God it doesn’t smell like him anymore because I see that jacket and I remember that night.  He said he was drunk, but even if you drown enough bottles and had enough shots you would know what your girlfriend looked like in a hazy state. It’s easy to be unfaithful in a relationship that bored you, though it still hurt when I saw him tonguing with another bitch.  He was a firm believer in “actions speak louder than words” so instead of saying he no longer wanted to be with me, he showed it.

I forgot to give his stupid jacket back because if I saw his face I might end up punching him again. But we’re all good; he said I could keep it now it’s just for display.  A daily reminder that anyone can screw you over.

And here it is the fifth and final piece, a broken CD. It’s from this boy and I’m pretty sure you’ve heard about him. There isn’t anyone who doesn’t know about the feelings I had for him, my manic pixie dream boy.

They said that he and I were soul mates, meant to be and fate finally brought us to meet and I broke the mix CD he gave me hoping it would shatter that image of us.

It took around… three years until I decided we were better of co-existing because I was tired of being a hopeless romantic thinking he would finally feel the same way. I placed him on a pedestal and after three years I finally kicked him off it.

Rather than trying to stitch moments to be something we could’ve been. We are now dancing the waltz of constant avoidance and forced distance.

Do you still love me? Because I don’t want you to be part of this museum of faults, I do not want you to be with this person carrying this much baggage. I’m willing to give you an exit strategy, there’s a map in my pocket that will lead you to the nearest exit.

 

Pieces of Peace: i am not your manic pixie dream girl

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I could just be some hipster wanna be but instead you called me a manic pixie dream girl” some two dimensional literary trope.

It was sweet at first how you liked me the moment you saw me though that should’ve been a red flag. You said the moment you saw me and not the moment you met me. Instead of asking me out for coffee, you decided to stare at me from afar. You said you were shy around attractive girls, thanks for the flattery but a “hello” would be more appreciated.

Congratulations you finally asked me out but I could tell that you were disappointed. You were a writer, a poet you specifically said, and you hoped I would fill the lines of your leather bounded journals. You mistook my energy as bubbly, my smile as charismatic and my reserved answers as mysterious.

My appearance might’ve deceived you and I am not even sporting bangs! Yes I like vintage and dress like I’m walking out of a 2006 pop punk music video but I am not a two dimensional trope.

Sure I said I have a place in my heart for quirky films and indie flicks. Yes I said that I prefer indie pop over mainstream pop. My favourite band has some obscure name and my favourite movie was directed by Wes Anderson. But like I said, maybe I’m an annoying hipster chick and not someone who is setting up your romantic storyline.

I am not a storyline.  I am not going to be with you for 500 torturous days where you’ll only love me for a split second until you see my flaws. Until you realize that I am as mundane as you are. I did not like everything you did, i did not brush off every mistake you’ve made with “I understand” and I broke your image when I was talking like a normal person. I forgot to speak in metaphors and confusing pop culture analogies. You hated that I was real.

When you realized not everything was an adventure, not everything that came out of my mouth was a snarky comment and I was boring to say the least. You got tired of me when I preferred to stay in, when I didn’t want to resolve our fight with sex, when I recalled my day at work or at school and you definitely hated me the moment you realized I am not as perfect as you wrote me out to be.

Please fall in love with a person, it’s such a treacherous thing to fall for a character you created.

Pieces of Peace: “saviour of a toxic romance”

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In the long run, you’ll realize that there are a few relationships in life that’s not worth saving. Do not constantly remind yourself that you are in love. Or tell yourself that there is no one else in the world that will love and tolerate you because you’re only settling down with someone for the sake of not being alone.

It’s going to be hard but at some point you have to realize your relationship is dead. There’s no use staying when you are unhappy because if you do, it might turn toxic. Because there will always be someone whose pride is too big to admit the spark is gone and another who is trying to avoid any conflict.

To some extent you give yourself small reason on why you should stay though the number one reason would always be to avoid crippling loneliness so you might as well stay with the because let’s face it, you’re no good in being single. Why venture into the great world of tinder mismatches and awful blind dates? When you can live your life in benign mediocrity with someone who might not make you happy but can try to make you smile every once in a while?

But then again you end up in this stagnant state, where you try so hard to shake things up. Try so hard to feel something because let’s face it, you look at your significant other and wonder how you can tolerate each other for so long without any physical or psychological alteration. You are constantly reminding yourself that you SHOULD be happy with them regardless of any disappointment or resentment or grievances they may give you because you are both so stupidly and irreversibly in love with each other.  Well that’s what you tell yourself.

One will always go through great lengths to make it seem that the relationship is still alive. Most of the time it’s a one sided thing, a receiver and the most admirable giver of the situation. They’re the ones that give you little surprises, have photographic memory they use as leverage when giving you nostalgic gifts based on inside jokes and firsts.  They are the ones who would do anything to make you stay.

Then you’re there sitting around wondering why they do this. You feel as if they’re guilt tripping you for the things you forget, for the various things occupying your mind and for just lying there while they look like the hero of the romantic comedy, the saviour of romance.

Then you reach a high point or boiling point in the relationship, where one small insignificant detail can turn into a mess. You’re always irritable and they always seem to nag or look like they never listen to you. You find yourself getting mad more often than usual, even about the smallest of things.

To the point that being mad is the only emotion you can feel around them. The only way to show some sort of affection or passion is by screaming at the top of your lungs or at least make a sarcastic side comment about how YOU do most of the work in the relationship. Though you have to admit they make you smile every once in a while but you end up finding a reason to be mad at them. The worst part is you don’t see this as toxic but as a way to fight for your dying relationship, to prove that it’s still worth it.

You actually miss your Tinder mismatches because at least you can easily cut loose the stupid fools and move on to the next brainless horny bastard.

As you sit there waiting for the next argument, the next sweet surprise and wondering if physical intimacy will be the saving grace of your relationship, your mind wanders to what if situations you actually wish were true. You then realized how unfulfilled your life is, how discontented you are and then realize maybe your relationship isn’t worth it. There’s a growing resentment between the two of you that turned into the elephant in the room that you try so hard to avoid.

If you have to remind yourself that you’re happy and in love, you’re not really happy or in love, would you rather grow together knowing that you harbour strong and hateful feelings towards each other? Or would you rather escape the toxic environment both of you are creating?

Pick the second choice.

Pieces of Peace: Lonely Morning Hangovers

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I want to wake up beside you because I want to know how it feels when your body curls next to mine. I want to feel your skin under the covers and our legs intertwined. I want to feel your lips pressed on my forehead as you slowly doze off. Your arms wrapped around me until the morning chimes in. I would patiently wait for the night so I could lay beside you again.

Let’s give a better meaning to “goodnight” and “good morning” whenever we’re close, no pillows between us. All I want is to wake up beside you and rid myself of lonely mornings. Aside from sleeping and waking there are others things we could do. Because there’s nothing better than staying in bed with you.

I want to kiss your lips and trace your skin with my hands. I want to feel my heart racing when you’re in between my legs. I want my screams building up in my throat waiting for the right moment to let it all out. I don’t want to distinguish our breathing or heart beats because I’ll be too busy trying to keep the rhythm of our bodies in sync.

We can lay innocently as well because intimacy isn’t always sex. But it’s still an option we can consider as I lay my head on your chest and you play with my hair.

That is all I want to do, wake up, fall asleep, and lay beside you. Let’s turn our bodies into maps and find the right spots and directions to reach our destination. Let’s drink wine until our conversations are sentimental and philosophical gibberish. Let’s stare at the ceiling watching shadows and imagine constellations.

All of this as we lay next to each other until we wake up and find ourselves interlaced from the night before. All I want is to wake up next to you, that is my only desire as of this moment.

Let me wake up to your eyes, your heartbeat and our bodies intertwined.