Now Playing: I Knew You Were Trouble by Taylor Swift (I knew you were trouble when you walked in, so shame on me now, flew me to places I'd never been, now I'm lying on the cold hard ground)
I'll let you in on a little secret.
It's not really love, and I don't know how to describe it other than the fact that to me, it seems like a real, tangible thing. Something you can touch and taste and feel. You hoard all those times someone smiles at you, winks at you, flirts with you, kisses you, and they become the things that make you walk a little taller, stand a little prouder, feel a little stronger. It feels real - even though it is as ephemeral as a pumpkin coach. Balm on old wounds. That feeling that you have something - you don't quite know what, or why, or how, how strong for how long - but it's definitely something, and for the first time the things that you are absolutely sure of include a few things that brighten your day. I spend so much of my time wandering whether the things I love are real or not, and when they're going to leave, it was nice having that false security that I had something I could trust. It wasn't exactly what I wanted and didn't always make me happy, but for now it was enough.
Now it feels like all those memories, all those moments I treasured, seem like nothing more than a particularly pleasant dream - they don't feel real anymore. It's like taking a long and sometimes painful, sometimes euphoric route back to square one. Because at heart I'm still a never been kissed little girl. I've got everything I've ever wanted for myself when I got to this point, but it still feels kind of empty. Because all those feelings, emotions...they were all connected to that thing you thought you had, that real tangible thing that you never had but now you feel quite lost without it. I think the only thing worse than losing it is realizing you never had it in the first place.
The truth is overrated. To a writer, the truth is no big deal, and sometimes the truth is just thinly veiled cruelty. I don't like being played for a fool, but what's the point in clueing me in? I was happy, in my own little world where things were finally starting to go my way. Everything good had a price, but it was a price I was almost willing to pay. Now I've paid it but I haven't got anything to show for it.
To be angry nor not - it seems a heavy choice to make. To lose a friend over something so well intentioned. To blame someone else for my mistake of trusting something as sturdy as a house of cards, for wanting something so badly I jumped in head first without looking. Now all there is left is to let go before I have to acknowledge that I never had anything to lose in the first place.
Being fearless has helped me find people to heal me, to find closure in old wounds, to become more like the kind of person I want to be. But begin again is acknowledging that anything that helped last year has only hurt me more. I got over my tiny little big huge momentous problems in that tiny little big huge momentous place we call high school on a lie. And now, I have to get over that, too. I don't know how or when or who I trust enough to help me, but I'm determined. I will begin again. Alone, if I have to. But even though it sounds weak and pathetic, I wish there was someone to hold my hand.