A Tainted Love

For a very long time, I believed that there was nothing that I would get to know about her that would surprise me. That no matter what I learned of her, from her or someone else, however expected or unexpected, would hurt me or upset me. I was absolutely sure that I knew her inside out, everything that she was capable of, her every thought, every fear, every dream. This was one of the reasons that I kept going back to her again and again, knowing that she was the only person in the world whom I was sure I was not mistaken about. Of course, there were times when I wished she was not like the way she was, that she was better than the person that she was becoming. One mistake I made was to think that I was responsible for protecting her just because of the fact that I was in love with her; that I was supposed to shelter her from the evils of the world. Alas, the more I tried to hold her, the more she seemed to fight back and slip away. Maybe I was too protective of her or maybe it was in her nature to trod a self-destructive path. I really do not know. Maybe if I had continued to let her mar me, she would still have been here by my side today. Then again, I know now that I was blindly worshipping a fallen goddess, believing in a false religion.

I won't lie to myself. I still miss her sometimes. To be truthful, I am not even sure anymore if I still love her, but I know that I still care for her and probably will for the rest of my days. Believe me, I have tried to forget her. I destroyed every piece of memory, physical or otherwise, that would remind me of our better days. I am still learning to try to live without her in my life. Actually, the credit goes to her alone for my endeavour to do so. If she hadn't done the things that she did or said the things that she said, I would probably have been wallowing in pools of self-pity, and destruction. However, even if I was or still am, I'd never let it show, neither to her, nor to anyone else. I had always been soothed by the presence of my protective shell. Whenever I felt fear, or lonesomeness, I would curl up inside my shell until the feelings subsided. On one such occasion, she expressed her desire to know her way in through my shell. Being the blind love-struck fool that I was, I found nothing wrong in letting her in. I even went to the extent of letting her take the shell away. I no longer had something to protect me with and I felt I didn't need any because I trusted her to never lead me back to those dark corners, not when all I saw in her was light. She then went on to tell me that she wanted me to tell her everything that I felt inside and I faithfully did. Every time I was hurt, or sad because of something she said or did, I would tell her. But for her, it was only an opportunity to make me realize that she was still going to do what she wished even if it meant hurting me in the process. I soon started feeling as if I lay naked on the cold floor as she slowly and painfully peeled the skin off my body. And yet, I kept going on, despite the many new wounds everyday. Some healed with time, some left their scars forever etched on my soul, and some are fresh to this day. And then I had the revelation that she wasn't the only one to blame for them. I was letting her do this to me and I was convinced that if I took even more step, I would surely die. It was then that I decided to let myself loose of the appalling fantasy that she had trapped me for so long. I came out a stronger man, yet forever weakened in the deepest trenches of my being. Since then, I've become too afraid to show emotion. I'm scared of even the thought of getting close to a stranger, for after her, everyone is a stranger.


Despite all that, how pitiful is that the only person I confided in when I was struggling with suicidal thoughts for a long time, was her? How sad is it that the only person in the world whom I could trust to understand what I was going through was the one who had driven me to that point? Then again, as I said, I didn't blame her completely for what I had become. She had every right to live her life the way she wanted to. I should have realized it when she showed the first signs of wanting to be a free bird. I should have let her go, and at one point I really thought I had. Her presence in me was so strong, her power over me so intense, that it actually took infidelity for me to try to break away the strongholds that she had on my heart and mind. And when she found out, I expected and really wanted her to never want to see my face again. Of course, I whispered my apologies because I did not want her to hate me for what I had done. I must say, I was surprised when she forgave me. I tortured myself for a long time with pangs of guilt and self-loathing because of that. I considered myself to be the bad one, not deserving of her love. And so I quietly walked away from her life, leaving her with remnants of my vague reasons for doing so. At first I hated myself for it but eventually found peace in knowing that I had done the right thing. I wanted her to find a love far greater than the one I had for her. She soon felt she found it in a person I had never expected, or wanted her to. I wondered then if fate was yanking at my strings like an evil puppeteer, not knowing that it was just the beginning of sorrows yet to come.

I had promised myself a while back that I would not write about her anymore. And when I kept that promise, I found that my blog lay vacant. Even the people who reveled, and sometimes mourned in my sadness, had slowly stopped dropping by. I realised that if I kept my promise, I would never be able to write again. I struggled for months to write something that didn't have undertones of her influence on me but I was fighting a lost battle. Just like everything else in my life, she had possessed even this. No matter how hard I tried, my every poem, my every word, became about her even when I didn't want them to. She often used to complain that I never wrote her a 'happy' poem. She felt that my sad and dark poems made her look bad. I, of course, knew it was not true. She just could never see the meaning behind them. I'm sure that if she somehow was to read this, she would feel the same way she always felt, that this too is about her. She would feel that I want people to see her as some kind of soulless monster who fed on my emotions. If I could, I would then tell her that like the many others I wrote before, I didn't intend to make this one about her either. All I wanted was to write about how I felt, what I was going through. It was supposed to be about me, and me alone. And yet, as I read it back, I see that it's going to be hard to believe that. If she had ever known me, she would have figured it out a long time ago that to write about me was to write about her. Of course, I'm certain now that she would never come to that realization. She has moved on, to better places and better people than my heart and me.

What is the state of my mind now? I often ask myself that. I wonder if I would ever be as close to a person as I was to her. I ask myself over and over again if I would ever be able to trust another woman with my heart and soul. Of one thing I am sure. I know that I was once a part of a tainted love that could have been pure and sacred under different circumstances or by making different choices. Whatever the reason may be for the way I am today, whether it be fate, or God, or just chance, nothing and no one will ever be able to erase that taint on my soul.

- The Lover @ Soul Intoxicated