I hope you don't mind me stealing a few words from Travie McCoy's song 'I Need You', but I think they are perfect for verbalizing what I'm feeling right now. I do hope I don't sound as depressed and melancholic as I think I do... Anyways, here are the words from Mr McCoy himself:
"I know its not your fault, but I’m a locked door
And I wish that I, I could find a key
To unlock all the things that you want us to be
Let me open up and start again,
But there’s a safe around my heart
I don’t know how to let you in,
And that’s what keeps us apart."
Now this assortment of words can have multiple meanings for those of you who are not inside my head right now, so I'll elaborate on the matter. Today was kind of a weird day for me. It was one of the rare days I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. I know, the lovy-dovy butterfly kind. And why, you ask? Because I was seeing Eden today. Yes, I know I promised never to devote another blog to the matter, so I lied. Big whoop. People do it all the time. I'm just upfront about it.
Okay, enough bitching on my part. Forgive my irony and sarcasm in this blog, I'm feeling emotionally and physically depleted, so I think that entitles me to some grammatical or idiomatic cruelties. Where was I? Right, the butterflies. I have to say I rather enjoyed them. That is, up to a certain point. But I really should tell you the entire story chronologically, that way it'll give me the structure I so clearly need and it will keep you guys clustered to the screen -which is the whole point of this, isn't it? It's all about the Box-Office, or in this case, Blog-Office. Ha-ha, get it? Oh Lord... There goes the humour. Promising...
So, I got on the train at 8 in Louvain. A normal train ride lasts about half an hour to Brussels Central. Now, thanks to our beloved social security system, we have strikes and protest marches and with these, we have delayed trains or in some cases, cancelled trains. A real hoot. Although not really. I arrived in B-Central at 8h50. Yup, you're math skills are not deceiving you: that is a ride of 50 minutes instead of the usual (and promised by the NMBS's on-time policy -my ass) 30 minutes. But I digress, again.
When I arrived at the station, I realized Eden hadn't tried to contact me once this morning. She didn't wonder what took me so long or why I hadn't texted her. This startled me somewhat. Especially since the main reason I got up at 6h45 was to meet her (on a day when I usually don't have class until 10h30) and because she said she had some things she wanted to say to me that she couldn't in a text. To make a long story short, I finally found her and it turned out, she had just got there herself. Still, why didn't she text me, I wondered.
I'll skip most of our conversation and just say that for the next hour and a half we talked about nothing. That is to say, nothing of importance. We -and by 'we', I actually mean 'I'- talked about school, homework, television, movies (Harry Potter, of course), our friends and several other meaningless things. The fact was that I was the only one seemingly keeping the conversation alive. There was this huge distance between us. Sure, we bumped into each other a few times on the street and I wished I felt something when I touched her, but I didn't. I hated the fact that I was the one doing all the talking since she made it very clear a few days ago, that she was the one with the huge news. Sadly, I never got to hear what it was.
But I have to say that the most depressing moment of our rendez-vous were the last 45 minutes which we spent in a little café. There was literally nothing left to say. I hoped this silence would kickstart whatever it is she was holding back, but it didn't. So we just sat there. She looked so sad and hurt and I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to hug her, comfort her and ask her what was wrong? I didn't think I had to. She was the one holding all the cards, she IS the one holding all the cards. I didn't think it was my place to try and pull the words out of her mouth. I figured, if she wanted to tell me, she would have. But she didn't.
When we said our goodbyes we hugged two times and I knew it was more than a friendly hug, but I also knew it was a Goodbye-hug, or at least it was on my part. As I walked away from the station towards my class, I couldn't help but think it was over between us. Whatever we had -whatever I thought we had- was gone. Of that, I'm fairly sure. I wanted to text her then and there: 'Guess it's over, huh?'. Those would've been my exact words, but I never sent them.
Two hours later, she texted me: 'I miss you', 'I'm not over you. I can't'. Now especially that last part confused me. 'I can't'. What did she mean by that? Did she mean she can't get over me or did she mean that she couldn't do what she had to do to be with me? (Wow, lotta two-letter words there...). I was quite hurt by those texts. Here was this girl who clearly felt a lot of things and who's clearly conflicted, yet she doesn't confide in me. Maybe I'm wrong -always a possibility- or maybe she won't let me in for a reason.
I talked about this with some people and they all agree unanimously that she's playing with me. Maybe that's true. Hell, I'm willing to believe any theory at this point. But I can't help but regret the missed opportunities between us. Still, after all this time, I think it's up to me to take a stand and to stick with it. Clearly, I'm never going to get my answer from her and I don't want to keep fighting a battle whose outcome is about as predictable as Belgian weather.
I hereby throw down my shield, my heart doesn't need protecting anymore.
I let go of the sword I so fiercely wanted to fight with, it has lost its purpose.
I take of my helmet and throw it on the ground, I can see clearly now.
I started this blog with lyrics from Travie McCoy and so, I'll post it here again and with a few final words, I bid you goodnight and hope you are more lucky in love than I am.
"I know its not your fault, but I’m a locked door
And I wish that I, I could find a key
To unlock all the things that you want us to be
Let me open up and start again,
But there’s a safe around my heart
I don’t know how to let you in,
And that’s what keeps us apart."
So by now, it should become clear that I'm not going to fight for you anymore. I'm not going to continue living in this shoulda-woulda-coulda fantasy. I tried to make a move, to break through, but I guess it wasn't enough. Maybe it never will be. In any case, I'm going to let you go now. I'm taking the safe's handle, shut it and turn it around. Sadly, you don't have a spare key anymore.
I'll skip most of our conversation and just say that for the next hour and a half we talked about nothing. That is to say, nothing of importance. We -and by 'we', I actually mean 'I'- talked about school, homework, television, movies (Harry Potter, of course), our friends and several other meaningless things. The fact was that I was the only one seemingly keeping the conversation alive. There was this huge distance between us. Sure, we bumped into each other a few times on the street and I wished I felt something when I touched her, but I didn't. I hated the fact that I was the one doing all the talking since she made it very clear a few days ago, that she was the one with the huge news. Sadly, I never got to hear what it was.
But I have to say that the most depressing moment of our rendez-vous were the last 45 minutes which we spent in a little café. There was literally nothing left to say. I hoped this silence would kickstart whatever it is she was holding back, but it didn't. So we just sat there. She looked so sad and hurt and I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to hug her, comfort her and ask her what was wrong? I didn't think I had to. She was the one holding all the cards, she IS the one holding all the cards. I didn't think it was my place to try and pull the words out of her mouth. I figured, if she wanted to tell me, she would have. But she didn't.
When we said our goodbyes we hugged two times and I knew it was more than a friendly hug, but I also knew it was a Goodbye-hug, or at least it was on my part. As I walked away from the station towards my class, I couldn't help but think it was over between us. Whatever we had -whatever I thought we had- was gone. Of that, I'm fairly sure. I wanted to text her then and there: 'Guess it's over, huh?'. Those would've been my exact words, but I never sent them.
Two hours later, she texted me: 'I miss you', 'I'm not over you. I can't'. Now especially that last part confused me. 'I can't'. What did she mean by that? Did she mean she can't get over me or did she mean that she couldn't do what she had to do to be with me? (Wow, lotta two-letter words there...). I was quite hurt by those texts. Here was this girl who clearly felt a lot of things and who's clearly conflicted, yet she doesn't confide in me. Maybe I'm wrong -always a possibility- or maybe she won't let me in for a reason.
I talked about this with some people and they all agree unanimously that she's playing with me. Maybe that's true. Hell, I'm willing to believe any theory at this point. But I can't help but regret the missed opportunities between us. Still, after all this time, I think it's up to me to take a stand and to stick with it. Clearly, I'm never going to get my answer from her and I don't want to keep fighting a battle whose outcome is about as predictable as Belgian weather.
I hereby throw down my shield, my heart doesn't need protecting anymore.
I let go of the sword I so fiercely wanted to fight with, it has lost its purpose.
I take of my helmet and throw it on the ground, I can see clearly now.
I started this blog with lyrics from Travie McCoy and so, I'll post it here again and with a few final words, I bid you goodnight and hope you are more lucky in love than I am.
"I know its not your fault, but I’m a locked door
And I wish that I, I could find a key
To unlock all the things that you want us to be
Let me open up and start again,
But there’s a safe around my heart
I don’t know how to let you in,
And that’s what keeps us apart."
So by now, it should become clear that I'm not going to fight for you anymore. I'm not going to continue living in this shoulda-woulda-coulda fantasy. I tried to make a move, to break through, but I guess it wasn't enough. Maybe it never will be. In any case, I'm going to let you go now. I'm taking the safe's handle, shut it and turn it around. Sadly, you don't have a spare key anymore.
1 comment:
So... about an hour ago since you posted this. Was on fb anyway, so I read it and doubted ever since if I should write a comment, because I'm scared to go over-the-top-emotional in it. 'Cause that's a bit how I am right now, not quite okay in the head. Probably won't make sense. In that case, ignore the below. Ingnore it anyway.
The problem with love is that you're always at its mercy. And damn, she is a fickle bitch. I'm gonna pull another cliche out of my sleeve: follow your heart. I believe that in this case, your mind and heart are telling you the right thing: let go of it.
Close the door on it but leave a window slightly openend. On my two past relationships, both door and window were smashed close rather harshly. One boyfriend turned out to be gay and the other one to be quite a psychopatic nutcase/criminal. I have the feeling that ever since, a piece of me was shattered (probably my self-confidence) to the extent that it can't be mended. Also probably why I haven't allowed myself to fall in love and feel those fucking beautiful butterflies for over 3 years now. I'm waiting for someone to sweep me of my feet and at the same time I'm dreading it so very much.
I'm telling you this, even though we don't know eachother that well, because I don't want the same to happen to you. Don't lock yourself inside your safe. Keep her out, but not everybody and everything else. Wonderful people like you don't stay alone for too long. Enjoy your life, your friends and your upcoming birthday :) If she seeks contact again, just make her clear that you won't allow her to step on your heart again.
And then a cliche that's not true: you can not just be friends, not in the first days/weeks/months (that varies for everybody) after your breakup. Allow yourself time to heal.
I'm so stopping right here, before my hands shake too much to type anymore and you call 112 to get me picked up by the Asylum.
Love x
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