A Fidelity to Her, Part 2

It came from knowing that I never lack in anything. It came from realising that everyone isn’t for everyone and he and I just weren’t for each other, and the fact that I had left no stone unturned in loving him.

In time I allowed myself to let go, because in letting go I have learned that I was not losing hope. I was only hoping for more, hoping for better, and hoping for something worth holding onto, because in letting go, I have learned that sometimes hanging on hurts more, that fighting harder makes you lose and that waiting only wastes your time.

In letting go I have learned that once the storm is over, one would not even remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive or even be sure, in fact, if the storm is really over, but one thing is certain: when you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked into it.

In letting go I have learned that the things I was afraid of losing and letting go of were exactly the same things I needed to lose and let go of to grow and set myself free.

And in letting go I have learned that I may lose some people down the line, but I will always find myself.

So, I wrote this fidelity because I know you’re probably going through the same thing, though I am thankful for the pieces of my heart that got broken. It was therapeutic putting them back together.

You’re probably waiting for that little bit of hope to have a lifeline for all your resilience and patience to finally pay off. You’re waiting for that one person to realise how good you are to them, but honestly you can never force someone to see what they do not want to.

It probably became too much. The arguments became louder, the fights often, credence diminished overtime, lines were crossed, drunken phone calls and bad decisions, it all became too much.

Well I just wanted to applaud you for no longer trying to wait or stick around to find out whether he’s into you or not. I applaud you for picking up the pieces even though your talents are wasted and you gave up on your dreams. Reality hit hard and you got a taste of failure. You’re cautious now about bearing your soul for if others saw you fully exposed, they may not love you like they claim to. Time and experience have taught you to trust no one. Some have forsaken you, but you keep the shattered pieces of your heart in a bore.

You go on despite the fears, struggles, obstacles and disappointments, for no one knows the things you have endured like you. You never claimed to be perfect. Unlike me, your independence is not a curse or destruction. It is not an excuse for why he does not want to stay. You deserve to be loved correctly and your independence does not make you unlovable. It does not mean you always have to fight alone; you deserve the deepest love that does not have to compromise your strength or dependence.

You can write for hours on hours on all the things you wish you could have been for him and things you wish you could have done, honestly you can never save someone who refuses to appreciate and acknowledge your efforts. This is what I have learned and this is what I have come to accept. You can hide behind your flaws and imperfections, but in the end, they will always tell your story, and the simple truth is you are not poetry.

I know you wish you weren’t so awkward, that sweet words could roll right off your tongue, but you’re too precious to be worrying about how each sentence is strung. It’s OK to be rough around the edges, to be bruised, broken and scarred, but it’s not OK to let him tell you it’s a reason you need to change who you are.

You hair does not sit neatly the way a poem sits neatly on the lines and sometimes you might feel like a word that nobody has learnt to define, you might not be a star that lights the darkness or a bird that teaches us to soar, it’s OK because you are too complex to be crammed into a metaphor, it’s OK to not know what you’re doing since your feelings don’t have all the rhyme, and though a poem once complete is eternal, you have the freedom to change over time. You’re much more than can ever be written. There is no title to say, “This is me.” You can’t be trapped in a line of a notebook because you are not poetry.

You are a beautiful kind of madness and an undiscovered treasure. You are the things many could learn from, especially the darkness that is hidden behind your eyes, so gifted.

My devotion to you is:

May your heart never break again, but if it should, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.

May your soul never grow weary, but if it should, may the light of my soul rejuvenate yours.

May your legs never give out from under you, but if they should, I will carry you wherever you need to go.

May your hands never feel lonely, but if they should, know that mine are always yours to hold.

And to all women lying in bed unable to sleep because of ghosts of past relationships and past decisions haunting you at night: you’re not alone. You go ahead and get some rest; I’ll take the first shift.

“Find yourself.”

Then find me.

Too many times I feel like I’ve bumped into people and met them all at the wrong time. But I could never really tell if it was ever the right time.

Too many times it felt like I had to give up a piece of myself each time, and then they would go.

I remember how many doors I held, watching people leave my life. Sometimes I analyse too much. I’m trying to understand how I’m such a contradiction.

But when a person walks into your life, somebody you end up growing to love, you’ll hope they stay, even if you know deep within that it won’t last.

I eventually stopped trying.

I eventually stopped hoping.

I eventually got tired of meeting people who aren’t made for the type of love I want to give.

I eventually got tired of temporary names and temporary memories.

And so, my love story was not about my lover, but

A tale of how I found myself.

Tell us: What are your thoughts about the story?