The Cheshire cat

Everyone has a story. I thought I could tell mine without feeling humiliated after all this time but I can’t. There is no way I can recount everything without feeling the shame of rejection burning up my insides.
I thought I’d made peace with this. That I had made peace with him. But I can’t think of him without regret, pain, humiliation, and sadly, not without love either. I can’t think of him without the thought stabbing my heart. I can’t think of him and move on.
You see, he made me dream of the weirdest things. Of talking about different dimensions and who we’d be in every one of them, of writing notes and slipping them in his bag, of sitting by the tower on a winter evening and not really saying anything at all, of calling him up when I need to cry, and letting him tell me what an idiot I’m being, of letting him touch me… He made me want to be his girl.
And I can’t accept the fact that it’s just my dream. I’ve paused everything. I’m at the same place emotionally out of pure pig-headedness. Why should I move on? How could he possibly not want me?!
I’ll tell you why. Because he didn’t have to make an effort. You belonged to him anyway.
Oh screw men and their need for a challenge.

But I feel happy I felt this way for someone. It’s a relief knowing that I could, that someone could still make me cry. This past year I’ve had to simulate emotion because I’ve exhausted all my reserves of passion, anguish, anger and hurt. After the three most insane years of my life, this blandness feels relaxing.
I’m not cold. I’m just saving up my feelings for the right one this time. I can’t keep wasting it on the unworthy.
For saying no as honestly as you could with the little bit of tact you save up for momentous occasions like a girl telling you she’s liked you for three years, I am devastated grateful. The politeness was Hiroshima to me at that moment, but that’s what I love about the human spirit- reconstruction is possible. This time I won’t let planes in my territory. This time I won’t let anyone take me by surprise.
Cheshire cat, thank you. Thank you for killing the minor poetess in me. Thank you for the adamantium you introduced into my soul.

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Comments
6 Responses to “The Cheshire cat”
  1. I’m not going to offer out my sympathies here… but will say that, sometimes we learn from expriences. Sometimes, we *go* through experiences so that we don’t make the same mistakes again… and like you said, maybe feeling once, is better than not feeling at all.

  2. Hira S. says:

    thanks.
    It doesn’t hurt as much as it did. I’m glad i came out of it stronger.

  3. farooqk says:

    you gave purple the password but not me!! Not fair!! arrrggghhhh!!

  4. H says:

    not everyday you can bring it out in a girl to completely truly feel.
    Sad. at his loss.

  5. farooq, im just lucky and you’re just jealous. 😉

  6. farooqk says:

    haha Whatever! 😛

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