Love.

"We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It’s easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven’t even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these lovable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else."

-Chuck Klosterman

Whimsy.

An old photo of your new lover

That you discovered in a book she left

Shot in some sun-drenched piazza

Or whatever in Rome or wherever it is she went.

There's a sly glint in her eye

And you can only guess at what it might have meant

There’s a world without you.

There’s a world without you.

A new photo of your old lover

That you discovered to your chagrin

It’s been so long since it all went sunder

That you stopped wondering where she’s been.

Her hair’s changed. Her clothes are strange

At a party where the likes of you would never get in.

There’s a world without you.

Yeah, there’s a world without you.

There’s a world without you.

Yeah, there’s a world without you.

You don’t want the news if you’re not a part of it.

Even if it’s true you still fall apart a bit.

You don’t want the news if you’re not at the heart of it.

Even if it’s true.

Even if it’s true.

You don’t want the news if you’re not a part of it.

Even if it’s true you still fall apart a bit.

You don’t want the news if you’re not at the heart of it.

Even if it’s true.

Even if it’s true.

There’s a world without you.

Yeah, there’s a world without you.

There’s a world without you.

Yeah, here’s a world without you.

Oh

Oh oh oh oh oh

Bittersweet.

I wasn't expecting a reply.

I don't know what I was expecting.

I don't know why I sent you that email.

Maybe I was being selfish; I wanted to get the feelings off my chest.

The same thing you did to me.

Maybe that's why you replied.

And in that moment of weakness, that one moment, we both felt the exact same way.

But that moment has passed.

There is nothing left to say, nothing left to salvage.

Time to get back to my reality- the reality wherein you no longer exist.

Achieving perfection.

I need a plan for world domination.

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When I think back, I realise that we were wrong for each other from the beginning.

You thought you were ready.

I was using you as escape from my reality that I couldn't face.

You offered the alternative.

Maybe I forced you to...?

But you couldn't deliver what you promised.

You overestimated how much you could give.

I saw the signs. That we weren't suitable for each other.

But I clung on despite everything.

Because what you offered, what you stood for, the bright and shiny future you painted gave me hope.

We started the relationship for wrong reasons.

It was not sustainable.

It was not meant to be.

You couldn't give me what I wanted.

I needed more than what you were willing to offer.

I needed so much more.

But I still stayed with you.

Because I believed I loved you.

Despite everything that I'm saying now, that I'm saying here, I think I still love you.

I don't know why I love you, and I will never forget the words you said to me, "I like you... But..."

Those words broke my heart.

The more I clung to you the further you drifted away.

When you finally ended it I was relieved.

I didn't realise how much the relationship was eating at me.

I was sad, I still loved you, but I was relieved.

And when I began to accept that you were gone, that we were done, as always, I put myself on the track to moving on.

Because that is the only way that I can save myself from my own despair, my own self-indulgence.

So why did you contact me?

I was getting on fine without you.

Why did you have to look for me?

To fulfil your own selfish desire to get your feelings off your chest?

And after you dropped your bomb on me you disappeared.

Like a memory that crept up, out of nowhere.

With no future, because it is set in the past.

And I have to start over all over again.

Memories.

It feels good to start all over again; if only we could do this with everything in our lives...

So. The past week has been a revival of sorts. The mother came back one day with a beautiful watch that belonged to the father. And I dug up her vintage Dior sling handbags from her glamourous twenties. The theme running through these items (besides the fact that they're older than I am) is that they've all got gold accents somewhere. A clasp, lining, logo... The gold necklace the father gave me as a child (that I recently got reacquainted with) currently adorns my neck. For some reason, gold has been appearing in my life a lot lately. It started with a rosary ring.

The rosary ring.

I wanted to sell it. Get rid of it. And in getting rid of it I thought, maybe I would be able to achieve catharsis of some sort. Like purging my life of anything that reminded me of him would get rid of memories of him. But I didn't do it because it's a religious object. And so it was sitting in the living room, untouched, after everything fell to pieces, because I couldn't bear to look at it.

Until tonight.

Until tonight.

I'm over-caffeinated.

I decided that... I want to start wearing it again.

But what connotation it would have... I don't know.

I feel sad when I look at it.

It's like looking at my failure in my face.

And of course, because he has one as well, it is like... Looking at something, the one thing, that still connects the both of us. And I don't know if that's a good idea. In fact, I would probably go on record to say that it isn't a good idea. At all.

But maybe, just maybe, I need this something to remind me of my mistakes, to make sure that I do not repeat those mistakes again.

Ever again.