The love I haven’t met yet

Dear Future Love. Don’t give up on me.

I know it’s taking longer than you’d like. It’s a hell of a lot slower than I could have ever imagined. But I’m here. This is me talking to you, specifically. And I’m not going anywhere.

Thoughts of you fill my mind, more than it should. My mind tends to make up mental images of your face, keeping my Inate desire to hear the beat of your heart,the smell of your skin, the sound of your voice burning.

I think about the way you’d laugh, the curve of your smile, all the while thinking that I can’t wait to meet you, to know you. I might know your name, and I might know your face, but I don’t know you. I mean, the real you.

The you who will tell me your hopes and dreams and always reassure me that I’m forever in them. The you who will trust me enough to completely let me in.

The you that isn’t afraid to show emotion, that isn’t scared of conversations that lead deeper and deeper into far too personal and dangerous territory, the you that doesn’t feel the need to wear a mask with me, that would let both of us grapple with your own confused thoughts and actions.

The you you’ve been waiting to share with just me. I can’t wait for you to meet me and honestly I’m not even done meeting myself . I’m in eerie new phases in my life and I’m learning more than I previously knew about me.

I’m being tested,broken, facing emotions and feelings I never wanted to face. All so I can be the woman I’m meant to be and God knows that I’ll never fully become that woman until we cross paths. There are some lessons I will only be able to learn when I meet you. I’m in love with you, all of you.

I love you, in perpetuity.


The love I haven’t met yet

Dear Future Love.

It’s me again.

Today I’m scared, truly scared. I’ve never said those words before to someone like you. I’ve never had those word to said to me from someone like you either.

Sure, I’ve said I’ve loved people before but it’s not like this. I haven’t said those three words while staring into someone’s eyes while our fingers are intertwined. I want to

I haven’t said those words so slow and deliberate that the receiver feels every ounce of love in the depths of their soul. I haven’t left trails of my kisses along their jawline while whispering those words in between every time my lips collided with their skin. I want to.

But when we’re finally in each other’s lives, I won’t be in a rush to. Not yet. Not because I don’t want to, because I really, really want to. I’ve thrown caution out the window with those three words that I think, I’ve forgotten the weight of what those words carry.

I’m telling myself the next time I say those words I would mean it forever and never go back on it. I’m telling myself if I feel those words start to fall out again I would make sure that this would be the right time and it doesn’t slip away from me again. And even though I know it is, it’s scary when you know. Fear will always be something that holds people back.

With love sometimes comes pain, and I’ve been in pain so many times before with the misuse of the L word. I’ve told myself past situations were love. Some real, some not.

Then those relationships ended so excruciatingly that couple nights ago, I laid in bed questioning if love is even something that’s attainable.

It’s almost difficult for me to think that maybe ours will be different. Because, it will be completely different.

Something will happen when you walk into my life. My walls that are so indestructible, will crumble with the touch of your fingers. Something will happen the first time you’d sleep over and I wake up to someone I don’t instantly want to kick out. Even though somewhere deep inside of me will scream at me to get out, my heart will tell that voice to quiet down. My heart will tell me that this is different.

My heart will explode the second you say my name. It’d be almost like when you’re around, I’ll be reminded what it’s like to feel alive. It’d be intoxicating and I’m completely addicted to the high. I know that I won’t be letting you go without a fight… Giving you all the love I have to give.

So, I won’t say love and neither should you. Not right away. Say any other word but love and I’ll understand what you mean. I’ll know that what we have is going somewhere and you’re not going to run scared. We don’t have to dive in so deep so fast because we have all the damn time in the world. We’re in this together.

Love’s whole point

Love is a risk. That is the exhilarating part. There are no promises. There are no guarantees. People choose every day whether they want to keep loving. Trying. Believing in another person. You could feel secure one moment and in the next, your whole world could turn on its head. But to have someone choose to love you every day. On their own. It is a risk worth taking. It is a feeling that rivals most other feelings on this earth.

What I have learned is that you can’t love to be loved. You love just to love. Its natural. You can’t control it or limit it based on someone else’s response. Maybe you didn’t feel it, but I did. And I am glad that I did. I loved you because I felt love. And I don’t regret it. For me, it showed me how capable I am to love. And how much more beautiful love will be with someone who feels the same way back.

This life is ours. We share it with each other, yes. But what we learn from it. What we take. Is ours and ours alone.

And when I think of you, I’ll feel pain for a love that couldn’t be. But I’ll also feel love. I’ll smile because we had moments that I will hold on to forever. And I’ll remember you as the person that I went full on crazy with. Which makes you very special because I didn’t think it would ever happen.

For you, I threw open the door, instantly. I could never explain to you how much you mean to me. Or how happy I was to feel the things I felt for you.

Everyone wants to hate each other when they don’t get what they wanted from a love story. I actually never thought to hate you. I couldn’t. It wouldn’t even stick. Because you aren’t a bad man just because you didn’t love me back.

And we need to remember that in life. We can still love the men we love, even if we don’t end up with them. It doesn’t mean our heart was wasted.

What it means is that we crossed paths with a soul that we were drawn to. They affected us. Moved us. Made us feel things that made our hearts come alive. Stirred our emotions. Made us think. Made us feel. All of these things are good and positive things. Why is it that when something doesn’t work out all we focus on are the negative things that happened? We miss. We overlook.

We try so hard to forget about the good things. I don’t want to forget them. I want to be grateful that I met someone who made me feel. How often in life do we meet people that cause a reaction inside of us. It’s rare. I’m thankful for it. That this one man made me feel so many things. So deeply. Him and I not ending up together doesn’t change the fact that I felt such a connection. He had my attention.

And maybe modern dating encourages us to hate our exes but I think I see things in a different light. And I like it because it makes me feel stronger not weaker for having loved. And I’m pretty sure that is love’s point.

Four facts

Maybe I was wrong for falling. Maybe I was wrong for not stopping myself from doing so. Maybe I knew I wasn’t supposed to but I still did anyway.

Maybe I was just stupid. Maybe I was just on my period and wanted someone to love. Maybe I just didn’t want to feel like a rock. Maybe I just got tired of not feeling anything. Whatever the reason was, it does not change the fact that I fell. And that I shouldn’t have.

Fact 1: I knew from the start that I must not develop any feelings. MUST NOT.
I stood in front of the mirror and promised myself “You’re not falling for that guy, you’re not weakshit, you’re not doing that stupid thing.” The moment I first saw you from afar, I felt something inside me that wanted to punch myself for making that promise. But I thought, you know, maybe he just has looks and that’s not enough to make me fall completely. So I held my head up and convinced myself it’s going to be easy and that there’s nothing to worry about.

Fact 2: I was wrong.
That same day, you took me out for drinks. Unfortunately, you were more than just your looks. More than the perfect built and features, your sense of humor distracted me from trying not to fall. I’m pretty sure my brain was fighting me for not listening. But every word that was coming out of your mouth had my mind on mute. They weren’t just funny, they were all interesting and bright. You had clever theories about the weirdest things and you had admirable insights that made people think twice about what they believed in.

Fact 3: I fell completely.
Most importantly, I think what connected us the most was poetry. When you started talking about it, I was intrigued because I too am a poet. You are also a pianist. And the first time I heard you play, I knew in that moment I was letting go of the promise I had made.

For a brief moment I wanted the world to pause so I could catch up on my breathing and my feelings as well. By the time we left each other, I knew that I had completely and entirely fallen in love with that day and you. After that day, you gave me a dozen more reasons to love you. But I didn’t need more reasons for I was already deeply attached to the thought of you.

Fact 4: You didn’t feel the same way.
And it’s okay. For a couple of weeks, I went back to convincing myself that it’s going to be alright, that I don’t need to be liked back and that I’m alright.

It took a lot of work to pat myself repeatedly on the back and at the same time to insist that I’m really fine. The fact that you weren’t feeling the same way didn’t change the way I felt about you.

It didn’t change how that one day made me feel. To me, it is still the same magical day I had kept in my memory. But I knew, that in one way or another, I have to get over this feeling because I’m sure that you’d never like me back. What I felt for you, what I chose to feel for you, you’d never choose to feel for me. So I’m forcing myself to detach.

Falling for you was a choice, a choice I didn’t even think twice about. I knew I wanted to, I knew I had every reason to, and I knew that you were worthy of being adored and loved in every way possible. All the maybe’s that I had were wrong.

I will never regret falling in love with you.
Although it going to be painful and difficult to get back on my feet.

Thank you for giving me all the reasons to love you.

I might not have been strong enough to resist my emotions but I’ll be able to listen solely to my mind now that I need to climb back up from the fall. I know how to pick myself up with a smile on my face despite a broken heart, grateful that I can still do so for myself and for the sake of loving again completely.

My first love

…Was everything I ever wanted in a guy. If I were to conceptualise a list of ten desired qualities in a guy, he would score eleven out of ten.

He was my other half, this uncomprehendingly wonderful being that fulfilled my life, so much so that I sometimes doubted his existence and thought that I had contrived him in a dream.

I was 15 when we met and 16 when we dated, He was my first real boyfriend and I couldn’t have been more of an idiot in love with him. We were inseparable at first, literally, our bodies were intertwined a lot at the beginning.

My friends made fun of me, and rightfully so. It didn’t matter though, I knew I wanted to spend forever with him. Forever ended up being 11 months. I had known him as a friend for a couple months previously and we did love each other.

He has really dark hair. It normally looks brown but in the light it shimmers black. He likes playing cards to pass the time. Between school and brigade practices he barely had any time for himself. But the ambition and hard work were good traits to have. He has a slim figure. He has light skin. He wore sleeves most of the time — His Element brand.

White and blue were his favorite colors and they suited him well. In any argument, he always had to be right, but eventually would let me win.

The first time I saw him, I decided that he was the most perfect human being on the earth. The only presence of him nearby made me feel delirious. We spent so much time together, we had endless themes to talk about! In the street we had a special place, where we dreamed and talked.

I remember him hugging me from behind, expectedly and at the end the quick kisses he stole, as quickly as his lips landed on mine, it left just as quickly. It was funny and unusual.

I liked to pick this memory from my pocket on nasty days, and life turns bright. The memories were so deep and clear, I was still so young, hanging around and singing beautiful songs about love.

I remember the future, potential and a family we envisioned.

He touched my soul so deeply that I was completely vulnerable to his grasp, which was always tender and caring. He taught me what it felt like to truly love someone down to your core; what it felt like to constantly live with a burning desire, so strong that it actually pains you, and he showed me the perpetually engulfing warmth of deep, flaming, impassioned,mad love.

He dreamed up delightful visions of our future together – bright enough for both our imaginations. I loved every element of his soul. What he deemed flawed, I saw as more reasons to love him.

I loved his heartwarming smile when he became too excited about a topic of conversation; that floppy wisp of hair that he could never seem to control; the way he overused words when describing his passions; his shyness when wearing ripped jeans, letting my compliments bounce off him like a tennis ball to a solid wall; the sad smile he made that accompanied a vacant stare when hearing about the death of my brothers; his confidence that was always accompanied by a tiny crevice of self-doubt, a nook that I constantly tried to fill; and his overwhelming passion for life and love: always optimistic, always grateful, always pure and true.

Our conversations were energy-filled debates of love and adoration: bursting with excitement of sharing our knowledge, truths, love and yearning to include each other in every capillary of our lives. He was my perfect puzzle piece: an over-thinker, a relentless inspiration-seeker, forever a solitary explorer,believing that life is meant for loving,and happiness is meant for sharing.

He was a down-to-earth guy, his presence an eternally rare gift. He encouraged my passions and was also my reality. My heart was safely, snuggly wrapped in a blanket of his pulchritudinous love; and so I always carried him with me, wherever I went, in my sub-conscience, in my actions, in my thoughts, in my activities.

It was as though we were one, and I was just one half of this amazingly surreal, perfect concept of us. With him by my side, I felt like I could conquer the world, reach all my goals and dream up inconceivable dreams; but with him by my side, I was just as content with dropping everything for a simple, happy life of togetherness.

I couldn’t love him enough. He was my first love, and my first heartbreak. Life without him brought me inconceivable pain. It was a pain that represented the few fighting rays of sunshine through the fog of my life; pain that set me on a path of self-discovery; pain that demanded me to keep learning; pain that taught me what it really meant to feel; and pain that forced me to open my eyes that had been blinded by the illusion that the distance between us was merely physical and not emotional.

Losing him, my entire world and the person I depended on for happiness, was a reality check of note: I was forced to avoid all distractions and take a cold, hard look at myself and finally be honest about my aspirations and how I wanted to reach them.

I had to forget about everyone else’s opinions and uncover the truth about how I felt, something I had hidden to make life easier: a demon that I should have addressed before I met him. I had to start creating my own happiness; and wow, what a challenge that has been. It’s hard to live with should haves and the mourning of unspoken words,unfulfilled moments and future memories left blank. I was desolate.

My best friend(ex) tried everything but I was an inconsolable mess. Nothing was okay. I wanted everything to go back to normal. I wanted to go to his place and cuddle up with him. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted him back. But the reality of our breakup was too real.

Two months after our breakup I still waited to see him come back to me.

As awful as it was, a couple months later, I couldn’t be more grateful for all the lessons that I learnt from it.

Forever grateful.

Why I write, Day 4

There has always been something about writing that is so inexplicably liberating. Perhaps, it is why the people who feel like they are being caged become writers, simply because they resemble wings.

The thing is that I fall in love writing each time because it gives me wings to fly with. It hands over a key to unlock doors to another life. It offers me an escape from a miserable existence. It is not just an activity or pastime. Not just a hobby.

It almost seems as though my lifeline is wired to it. My breathing capacity is measured by the amount of lives I touch with my words.

I live to write. To breathe letters into space and call it literature. To shape hearts of monumental proportions at the tip of my fingers. To celebrate the little things that matter.

I used to think that I write solely for myself… to express what my mouth has limited me to speak up about, to cater my dying need to voice out my thoughts. But I’ve come to realize that this is all baloney.

I have never intended to hold a pen with the idea of impressing the people around me in mind. I fill words in these blank pages because I want to take a stranger places, to make them experience a feeling that they can never experience anywhere else. I want to take people to journeys in time and space. I want to touch hearts, induce growth and teach life lessons.

I have already come to terms with the fact that perhaps, it is true that my heart has always been someplace else. That I was never meant to stay here. With all the wildness going on in this goddamn head of mine, it would simply be an act of insanity to just leave all the wildness in here to rot. I had to let it bloom for the world to witness, to experience.

Because when I am in writing, I am in both my purest form and deadliest state. I am not certain as to why this is so. All I know is I love writing, like second nature. Like an impulse, I could not ignore.

To weave words in their most perfect order. To become a mouthful of stories about this imperfect life. Because this is me flying. This is me being a writer. Escaping, holding the keys to whatever universes out there that awaits me.