I don’t like what I am becoming!

Ages ago I read a sentence in a novel, I never forgot it and now I am surprised how applicable it is, “I learned how to love you and hate myself”. I can feel the metamorphosis, I am turning into a wreck, a huge ugly wreck surrounded by a tsunami of profound and furious feelings. I am frustrated, all what I need is to forget the whole story, and be able to return back to my life. I have been bungeeing between these two worlds for so long, and its exhausting. I stare at people with half dead eyes, greet them with broken smiles and wait, wait for something that will never happen. Then I remember that I have wasted my best years waiting for something good to happen, inshala it will happen, just be patient, stop being hasty, patience…patience, and frankly nothing happened. Or to be honest, a lot of things happened, may be more than I expected, and all these things created a life that I am forced to live, a life that suffocate me, a life that I have to be grateful for, a life that lacks life.

Will you ever love me? Will you re-love me again? I stuttered but you heard me, your beautiful eyes, your beautiful dark eyes met my tired eyes, not for long, you swayed and I asked, “have you ever loved me?” with a shaky tone, I added, “not even for one day?”. You stood up, said in the coldest manner, “you sound nervous a bit today”. “A bit” I wished to scream as I have been screaming on daily basis, I wished to tell you that I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and that I am just legitimately curious to know what happened. How did I live before my downfall? What did I do…. Questions, questions, questions,… and now I feel that all the words have lost their meanings, they sound mediocre, fake and provocative. How can words describe my feelings or the feelings of any lover, how can an arrangement of letter, ink strokes on paper, shapes put next to each other, scribbles, how can they express the way your love kills me once or twice a day. But will silence describe my feelings?

Yesterday I told you that I love you so much, again, for the millionth time, again, I love you. But what do I really want? Love, what is love? This is my eternal question, my curse and my death. I love you, I told you, I wish you happiness, I told you, I think about you day and night, I told you, I am afraid that you will forget me, I told you. Words lost their meaning, their effect and their echo. How cruel love can be? how long this love should last? what will remain of me afterwards?