It's time that I finally become honest with myself. Honest with who I am after the last five years of nothing but heartbreak, heartache, never-ending streams of tears and all-too-familiar feelings of the similar disappointments. It has entirely completely become a part of me, who I am, what I am defined by, an annoying habit that I will never, ever rid myself of, no matter how hard I try to train myself with countless articles, self-help books, meditation, pep talks, Google searches on Privacy mode looking for telltale signs of whether someone likes me, too embarrassed to be honest but at the same time, realizing that I finally owe it to myself to take the L's from the past and throw them away, never look back and finally be okay with the faintest idea of hope.
It's time I come to terms with what was, and what wasn't. My past mistakes, my failures, my immaturity, my errors, my dishonesty, my foolishness, my naivete, my choices, my decisions and unsurprisingly, the results. The results that didn't come as a shock. The thing that I knew was going to fail but I still didn't care. The red flags and pink banners I ignored. No problem is too small or big to ignore. I didn't care. Ignorance was bliss. All I wanted to do was just grab onto that single fleeting moment and forget everything else because at that moment, that is all that mattered to me. Notice I didn't use the present tense of "matters." It's because I knew it was temporary and nobody ever lives in the present anyway, definitely not someone like myself. It landed me in a world of hurt, over and over again. I prayed to God every night to wipe my memory clean. He never did, and He never will.
It's time I stop being so afraid of being vulnerable, terrified at the what ifs, ands, howevers, buts. I need to get off my buts. But you surely cannot blame me for having this fear of having my heart torn apart inside out when I don't have much of it left. Each time, each year, it left a little tear. Some left rips. Some left cracks. Others left huge gaps. Altogether, they collectively came, saw, and conquered, then destroyed it, and mangled it. I had to run out and find so many needles and threads on my own to desperately stitch and mend it all back together, with nobody's help. Sometimes, I relied on others to help me find a needle or a new spool of thread. But those that handed it to me all left too. At the end of the day I was left alone, holding the needle by myself, once again, holding my bloodied heart left in tatters. Just the way I knew, and the only way I knew. I promised to put my heart away in a safe with a lock nobody can pick, to salvage whatever little bit I had left.
Finally, nearly three years ago, I told myself, I will never, ever go out and buy another needle again because I am going to completely destroy any reasons for needing one in the first place. I have yet to meet someone who didn't have to go out and find me a needle to begin with. That I will never, ever, ever fall in love ever again for the rest of my life. I never wanted to feel another man's touch ever again. I vowed to never ever let another man near me. I shut myself off from the world. I guarded the little piece of a scrap heart that I had left with everything I had. I wanted comfort and peace by myself. And I did. I found solace by myself for the last three years.
There were fleeting moments during my lifetime in between each heartache where I'd secretly deep down wish I could do that to someone else too, just so I know how it feels to have the upper hand in the situation. I wondered what it felt like to break someone else's heart, because it was done to me my whole life, the last 3 decades. I was exhausted from the endless heartbreak. I had nothing left. I couldn't go on. A really, fucked up selfish part of me wanted to know what it felt like to make someone cry. I wanted to do that to someone despite me always telling myself, "I'd never, ever ever do that to anyone else because I don't ever want to wish this on anyone, not even my worst enemy." More than it was about vindictiveness or retribution, what it really came down to was, I wanted to know what it felt like for someone to need me, for once. I wanted to know what it felt like to be needed, rather than me needing somebody. I wanted to know what it felt like to have someone pine away for me, too. To have wishful thinking. To not know how to live without. To have preference over. To fight for, to fight over. To want to grow with me. To look past my eccentricities. To accept my flaws. To never compare to anyone else. To pine away for all of the lost time of what was and what could have been. To know that I truly bring them happiness. To know, believe and be constantly reminded they don't want anyone else but me. To know that out of the 8 billion people in the universe, I am the only one they see.
It's time I tell you that I've been pushing you away and have had these crazy thoughts and feelings in my head and my emotions overtook me not because of PMS (although I faintly suspect that it might have at least a little bit to do with it) but there are other parts of the month that I cannot blame the unpredictable whirlwind on. There are reasons for these crazy yeses and noes, should I, shouldn't I's, the fluctuating, roller coaster of thoughts where I hate you one day and never want to speak to you again and the next day, I find myself missing you.
It's time I admit how much I've been fighting a lot of this because I'm just so. fucking. terrified. I am so scared. I'll never not be scared. I haven't had real emotions over anyone or anything for a very, very long time. Possibly my whole life. Because if that were the case, I would've chased after all those that left me but instead, I let them go their ways because it was clear they made a choice, and I didn't want to be the one to stand in the way of that. I always believe we deserve to be with those who want to be with us. But more than that, deep down, I knew that I had no energy or desire to run after anyone who walked out the door. If anything, I closed it shut and locked it afterwards, and threw away the key so nobody will ever approach my doorway ever again and dare knock. That's how spent I was. I locked myself in a tower with my own self image, cynicism, selfishness, and never-fully-healed scars holding me hostage. I vowed three years ago those scars will never be reopened again.
I've never been more scared in my life....and I rode X2 at Six Flags three times. It's such a scary thing. Vulnerability terrifies me to no end. I dread walking down that all-too-familiar of a path that I know so well what's waiting for me at the end but walk to my demise anyway. For once I want to know and believe that I'm truly headed towards the right direction and that it won't be an endless pit of despair, despondency and disappointment that I've only experienced my whole life.
I'm at the edge of the cliff that I can't bring myself to jump off of. I didn't dare climb a mountain for the last three years because I had nothing left in me to do so. What I need to know before I jump this time, is that you won't be there with a band-aid to cover my wound when I fall.
Instead, you'll be the one to finally have a net ready for me at the bottom so I wouldn't hurt myself in the first place or fall into that all-too-familiar pit. Then after I fall into the net, you'll see all of my years' worth of needles and empty spools of thread tumbling out of my pockets. Then you'll take all of my needles and empty spools of thread, and throw them all away into the pit.
It's time I bid adieu to a lifetime of solitude.
It's time to understand that for the last 20-some odd years, I believed that it's okay to be alone and while it still is, and I've thought I enjoyed it for so long, there's also nothing wrong with welcoming the purest type of love someone else shows me and that I don't always have to push it away just to protect myself. It's time that I realize when I push away, I hurt the other person in the process of trying to protect myself.
It's time to let go of it all. It's time I sputter out those words that I've never ever dared spit out to any person before, and couldn't bring myself up to do so. Those three, or four words that seems so simple and yet says and means so much. A representation of everything that I am mustering up in my power and courage to finally jump.
It's time that I tell you, yes. I like you.
There. Finally.
I said it.
I like you too.
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