to the one who broke my heart | honest letters #1

A friend of mine is posting a series of twenty-two honest letters to people in his life. I find the idea extremely brave, honestly, and I also really need to say what I need to say to some people, regardless of whether they can appreciate it or not. So. Here are some honest letters. Shall we?

Oh, love.

I remember falling in love with you hard and fast and with every part of myself. You are still the happiest time of my life so far. I remember longing to be with you when you left to get water, and I remember sitting in your lap hoping that I’d always get to see you looking at something from under your eyelashes. I remember the way that you thought your hands were too coarse to be good to hold, and I remember the silly half-mouthed kiss you gave me when I told you that I thought they were lovely. They are lovely.

I know you didn’t break it on purpose. I know. It was more of a civilian casualty: things were flying everywhere and decisions had to be made and the tornado that is my head didn’t help your balance either – and then you dropped it. It broke into three pieces that I broke further. With every drunk text and every “I just miss you” and every textpost and every “Just, call me if you miss me back, okay?” I dropped what was left. I shattered the fragments that you unintentionally left behind, and dissolved the rest of it in alcohol and tears and sweat.

I’ve come a long way from being the living embodiment of Tove Lo’s Stay High. I do miss you, still. I miss singing for you, and arguing about breakfast. You know this.

You know that I love you. You know that I always will.

You know that I have no sense of self preservation, and that if you came back with a piece of the broken heart that I left you with, I’d be on my hands and knees looking for fragments that had been missing for a year or three; that I’d dedicate myself to drawing up equations concerning where I can find exactly what we’d lost; that I’d cut myself down to size, again and again and again.

You know.

I can’t do that, though. I miss you, but differently now. The only science I was good at was our chemistry, and we both know that an attempt at complex mathematics would be better suited to you. You’re not too into maths, though.

I’m sorry about how things turned out. I’m sorry that nothing ended like we hoped; with off white walls and early morning espressos. I miss you indefinitely. I love you. I’m sorry that we’re finished, but we are. I know that now. My drunk heart knows it now. The pages of my journal know it. The Internet knows now, and so do you.

Stay well, and take constant care of yourself.

love and light,
shalom xo

Maybe, May.

“Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.”

We are already a week into May, and I am shell shocked and amazed and terrified because of it.

April brought the biggest heartbreak I have ever felt. I learned that I could actually cry for three straight days. I managed to not fail my first law test, and just pass my first English essay.  My best friend is moving 13,330 km away from me. She lives 20 km away from me now, and I last saw her at the beginning of April. My head is heavy and my body just aches. Things have been a lot.

 

wo.jpg

how perfectly angsty of me

The freshman fifteen has very quickly turned into the freshman “I am bad at spending money efficiently and also am constantly buying other people food so now I barely recognise my body”. Yes. I did join a gym, though. I joined an on-campus gym that’s going to have fourteen treadmills and hot showers. It’s opening in July, but I am very very excited. I’m also very lucky and #blessed to be able to have that to look forward to.
booo

It’s concerning that many teenagers drink to forget. 18 years is so little time in the grand scheme of things, but when it’s all you know, it’s the longest time. Why would you want to forget by means of ethanol based products?  Why not? Why am I thinking about this?

My headphones have been stolen. Again. Along with my cellphone charger. What is going on with me and losing stuff?

I went for a good two weeks without taking my medication because I was too anxious/busy to go pick it up at the pharmacy. I felt like an idiot. I’m doing better now, though. I’ve got my Wellbutrin and a big headache.

tumblr_lsg80xOpVm1qg20zj

One of my favourite people on the internet – Michelle from Piece of Caustic – wrote: “I think too much of my life has consisted of me eyeing the gap between me and others and wondering what to do with it.” I wish I would stop wondering. I wish I could hit myself in the face enough times for me to realise that I need to get my shit together and stop spending money like I have it. I need to realise that I can’t fill that gap with the utter bullshit my drunk heart spouts. It doesn’t tell the truth. It tells lies and hurts me, and everyone around. I need to find out what to do with that gap, or to get in it.

time-overwhelmed

Will May be the month I find out what the hell is going on? Probably not. I’m writing my first set of uni exams this month, and coming to terms with the fact that I’m going to be in Johannesburg for the next three years of my life. Being grounded is hard when you just want to go.

Maybe I’ll make sense of myself a little bit more this month.

Maybe May.

love and light
shalom xo


featured image from paper-leaf.com

Dare – More Angst. (Really, Shalom?) (Yes.)

Hi! I’m feeling super angsty and I keep writing these break up posts even though I have absolutely zero break up experience. Hence the melodrama, I think. Here’s another. Yay!


How dare you come into my heart? How dare you claim ownership –falsely! – over the only thing that I truly own? How dare you come, fleetingly, and leave marks like foot prints in the sand, in your opinion? Let me assure you, my heart is a Persian rug and you were, are, wearing those caterpillar boots with soles laden with mud and heartbreak.

How dare you make me think that anything was for you? It was all for you at one point, all points! Everything – how dare you make me believe in me because of a couple “you’re beautiful”s? How dare you?

How dare you allow me to think that good things come from you and nowhere else? How dare you crush anything that was alive and call it “housekeeping”, who told you my heart needed to be kept? How dare you, you and your empty words and “no promises” mantra. How dare you leave when you thought you’d cleaned up enough?

My carpets are dirty and the curtains are hanging off the railings. How dare you.

To whoever dares come after, some words:

Stake a claim in my heart, or get the hell out.

Amanda Torrini


 

That’s all. I’ll be back soon, I hope.

All my love,

-Scoot xx