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Broken Chapter 7

What is this thing we call ‘love?’

By Gia TimonPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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What is love? Have I ever even been in love? What is the meaning of love?

These are the questions I ask myself since being truly single the past few weeks. I question everything. The beauty of my anxiety, it makes you think about every aspect of your life and what you’ve done wrong. At almost 1 AM I wish my mind would quiet, these are the times I wish my post breakup insomnia would disappear. The only thing to help is writing and drinking, or so I say to excuse my recent alcoholism.

What did I do that was so wrong to drive every man away?

Who could say. I’ve spent countless hours trying to rack my brain around it, delving into the deepest recesses of my twisted mind trying to make sense of the past few months.

None of them matter now, not a single one of my recent conquests passes my mind. Briefly the recent, but only two stick in my mind. My most recent relationship, if we can even call it that and my ex.

He pops into my mind briefly when memories prompt him to. I have paid that one to rest. It plagued my thoughts incessantly before, now it is only fleeting.

The brief relationship (baby nips) played on my mind at this time because he has reached out recently, before that it was again fleeting or when I would see him post on Snapchat. It is the bonus of me only having Snapchat and Instagram. I deleted Facebook some years ago, purging myself from the dramatic platform somewhat saved my sanity. The amount of times I have checked the two platforms I have had maddened me, I can only imagine what I’d of been like if I had Facebook too.

Luckily for me, my ex has no form of social media, I have no pictures or conversations, no reminder of his existence other than working at the same company to haunt me. I sometimes wonder if I still remember the contours and characteristics of his face. The perfectly trimmed stubble and aqua blue eyes that made me fall so deeply in love with him.

I remember every detail of his body because I spent the time we had together mesmerised, I’d spend nights drinking in every detail. Now those details haunt me, reminding me of every inch of him that I loved. The way his arms surrounded me, the feeling of safety and calm in my soul I felt whenever he embraced me. For his personality faded with every mean and deceitful thing he said in the wake of our breakup. Months ago I could retell every conversation and every moment we spent together, but after the heartbreaking conversation we had had months ago, I deleted every trace I had of him in my life. The only thing I had to look back on were the hazy memories that still lingered in the deepest, darkest files in my mind.

I thought I had loved before, I’d even said I had. It wasn’t till now, till I truly lost everything that I realised I had not loved till him. It was a lie, a manifestation. Concocted from ideals and fairytales the media tells us. I would be over it by now, but this one I couldn’t shake. It’s when you know you’re never going to shake that one person, it’s indescribable with words, that you know you’ll never love anyone like that again.

Is it an idea created by the media? Do any of us know what love is? Is it even real? Or is there only lust?

Maybe asking the person with sociopathic tendencies or the person that is deeply damagaed by their past isn’t the best person to ask.

All I know is, the feelings and absences in my heart make me certain I won’t ‘love’ like that again. Or perhaps in the same way.

I have only truly loved twice, because the pain and tears are constant, years on after the loss. My son & the only man I ever wanted to marry. Both are no longer in my life, however, the pain is constant even though it fades every day.

You really don’t know what you’ve got, till it’s gone.

Can we truly ever forgive ourselves when were left destroyed by this thing we call love? Only time can tell.

breakups
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About the Creator

Gia Timon

Just a girl telling her story of the modern dating horror show, struggling with high functioning anxiety, sociopathic tendencies and a troubled past.

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