I’ve damn near got no dignity left

Loneliness is the proverbial monster under the bed, it keeps us company with fear. This heartbreak seems to be eating at me at places I don’t even register. Eating my feelings became something I do, and my complexion is telling me to take my emotions down a notch. In physiology, your body will always have a reaction to highly-stressed states. Whether you want to admit it or not, you are stressed and upset when your body is permanently on cAMP. Cause and effect is confusing even in medicine. Especially when it’s a vicious cycle of stress and depression.

I need to stop finding comfort in company, and be okay with being alone. Already I thought I was making progress, reducing the texts and eating alone. Yet, I let myself get carried away with the attention, and the warm embrace of being desired by someone. People aren’t band-aids for my gaping wounds, or the Xanax to my crap.

I will not be a victim of romance,
I will not be a victim of circumstance,
Chance, or circumstance, or any man,
Who can get his dirty little hands on me

– I Was An Eagle, Laura Marling

Because everything I love has gone away.

I don’t think that it’s the end, but I know we can’t keep going

How is it that we can’t define love, and yet know when it disappears? Logically it isn’t possible, you can’t feel the loss of something if you don’t know what that thing is. Yet, I feel it acutely, in the depths of my heart, echoing in the vacuums of one-sided phone conversations. Every nightly phone call, a lump in my throat impedes the dutiful reply of “I love you”, to your constant effusions. And yet, it comes out, strangled and apologetic.

When did your declarations go from warming my heart, to stabs of guilt? I used to screenshot texts, just to make them last longer. When we fought, I used to look back at these images, and smile at the knowledge that we loved each other.

And now it’s all over. It’s amazing how someone who meant so much to you at one point in time; who could cause so much pain, just fade away in the forward rush of time.

When we began, I wanted a love that was as all-consuming as the sun, a love that could penetrate space-time continuums, and warm our hearts from light-years away. Instead, we had one that existed in concerned texts, grocery shopping dates and care packs of vitamin C. My impatient heart couldn’t stand such love that resided in between bus seats and errands. I did try so hard. Tried to make you happy, tried to listen to all the worries of your life, tried to love deeply.

Yet I knew that this was one-sided, and it will probably always be. I knew that you loved me but you loved yourself more. Physics and yourself are the two great loves of your life, and I’ll always play the second fiddle in this strange harem. As you’ve said before, if I chose to leave, you wouldn’t stop me. So I did.

In your post break-up regret, you swore to love me as strongly as I did. But we both knew it was a reaction to the sudden lack of familiarity, a reflex to the loss of a daily habit. I couldn’t change who you were, and it was foolish of me to think that maybe my love could.

Thank you for being in my life, and for letting me love you. Thank you for trying in the end, even when I let go. If I had another chance at life, I would still put myself through this journey of loving you, even if I knew it had an end. Thanks for making me a better and more selfless person, in love and in life. I will miss you and I don’t quite know how this heartbreak will affect me. But I hope you’ve grown from this as well, and find someone who will be okay with your harem, or maybe even someone who you can love before anything else.

Don’t you dare let our best memories bring you sorrow,
Yesterday, I saw a lion kiss a deer,
Turn a page, maybe we’ll find a brand new ending,
Where we’re dancing in our tears

– Lost Stars, from Begin Again

When you aren’t around

What do I really miss? Do I miss you or do I miss love? When we love someone do we love them, or do we love loving them and being loved back? I accept your flaws, I love your idiosyncrasies but that’s what I think love is supposed to do.

All this, we’ve never talked about this. We never really faced this part of me, this part that I feel that really is, the core of me. I think. I don’t even know myself. I don’t know many things, and I admit them, only to myself. You are this all-seeing eye, you think you know everything, and you seek to know everything. But I exist in my ignorance, and in front of you, wear this mask of knowledge.

Bleary eyed scrolling through articles on thoughtcatalog tagged under love and sex, sometimes under breaking up.

Realising that everyone is confused about love and no one is a guru. Not getting tips anywhere, no guidance, stop living my life according to arbitrary lists.

We talk about forever because we seem to believe that by verbalizing it, we are making it truer. Since when did truth have a degree; there is truth and there is fiction. We find ourselves in the chasm, reaching for truth with our words. Or maybe you don’t find yourself anywhere but grounded in reality. I am never grounded anywhere.

me vs. you

I found this year-old post sitting in my drafts (with some edits from current-me), and it’s amazing how it really sums up how I feel nowadays. Past-me understands current-me more than thoughtcatalog. Also, this means what I’ve feared a year ago seems to be slowly solidifying and becoming a reality.


I’ve always wondered how i could love someone so grounded in reality, so adamant that only our perceptions of reality are valid. Granted, you expound on wormholes and alternate universes but they are all backed up by scientific documentaries you’ve watched. Everything is grounded in science. Even our love is grounded in science, in the transmission of electrical impulses. I don’t think you understand why I¬†was sad when you claimed that all human emotion can be reduced down to neurons.

Words are my thing and math is yours but love is ours. I pour mine out in letters and diary entries while you express yours in fractions and infinities. We fumble along our incompatible ways of loving, trying to accommodate each other, trying to not lose ourselves among this amalgamation of languages. Our expressions may be variables that we find hard to solve but our love has always been the constant. And I am thankful that among the complex metaphors and long prose that I attempt to capture our love in, I will never succeed. We will never succeed. Because our love cannot be contained, cannot be expressed in fractions and quantified, cannot be known and expressed by an ocean of words, by all the versions of dictionaries. We exist in this continuum we have built between us, floating, struggling, together.

Despite that we will keep trying.

Ironically the day that we stop trying will be the day that our continuum breaks down. I don’t know about you. But I will fall. Hard. Through my woven web of words and phrases, I will fall. I will grasp at every past prose, verse and line written about you, and wonder if we managed to reconcile my words and your numbers, we would have made our continuum a new reality.