It’s so hard for me to comprehend what I’m feeling. I’m just the type of person who has to know what’s going on. But I don’t. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out went on with her, let alone what is going on with me.
Maybe it was my excitement. It had been so long since someone had shown such genuine, respectable, interest in me that it caught me off guard. Every time she paid me a compliment, I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know whether to say ‘thank you’ or make a sarcastic, albeit funny, remark. Every time she laid out suave line, I didn’t know whether to call her out or play along. I didn’t know what I was doing. But it made me happy. She made me happy.
Despite all my inexperience in handling her mannerisms and style, she was still there. She still talked to me. She still wanted to see me. I could not figure out why, but I loved it. I loved that she wanted to see me for the sake of seeing me. I loved that she wanted to talk to me, for the sake of talking to me.
After years and years of being a ‘soloist’, six to be exact, I had forgotten what it was like to be wanted. I had forgotten that feeling of content and euphoria of knowing that someone was thinking of you and you were thinking of that someone too. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. I allowed myself to become deluded by this infatuation. I’d like to say that I grew to like her just because she showed interest in me, but I’d be lying.
Things took an unexpected turn for the worst and for the first time in my seventeen years on this earth, I had my heart broken. It’s kind of stupid of me to say this on a blog like this, but if you haven’t had your heart broken, then there is no way I can even begin to explain how this feels. I can’t even understand it myself.
He led me on, left me in doubt and made me question my worth.
She made me question everything. Was it me? Was it her? Was it someone else? Every time I find myself alone, I can’t help but think. I can’t help but think of her. I NEED TO KNOW. Why do I need to know? For some reason I just can’t let it go.
There are so many things I want to know, so many things I want to say to her, but my insecurities hold me back. What if she doesn’t feel the same pain that I do? What if it was just nothing to her? Why must I look like a fool in front of her?
I’ve been told that maybe I’m more into the idea of being with someone that it is actually being with HER. Fine, that makes perfect sense, but how I can I get over her, if she’s that SOMEONE attached to that idea?
I wish I didn’t feel like this. I wish I hated her. But I don’t. I really really don’t hate her. I can’t hate her.
Daniel Haiqal .
