When I realized I was rejected, I couldn’t move. Maybe I didn’t think I could or I just did trust myself to. Somehow I’d lost all motivation for anything. To eat or go home. Nothing else right -my own skin didn’t feel right. All I wanted to do was to make everything right again but my mind was at a loss for words, astounded by its blatant failure, while my heart was shell shocked.
I remember that at that point of time I just wanted to feel better.
But I didn’t know how.
What was wrong? The answer was everything. I was drowning in it. Drowning in this ‘everything’.
I couldn’t talk to anyone. No one felt right to talk to. I sat in the hospital next to my bed ridden father. I haven’t heard his voice in weeks. All I could do was hold his hand. The only male hand I was comfortable with holding at the moment. At that moment it struck me that I could lose him anytime.
I wanted to talk to someone. I wish my heart would have allowed me. I didn’t know what to say to my sister if I called her, or my roomie or my best friend or my god brother. They were all there, all waiting for me to reach out to them.
I wanted to, I really did. But no matter how I strained I couldn’t get to them.
I never felt so lonely. So devastatingly empty. Too detached to function. Was this how I was always going to be each heartbreak? To feel so suffocated by my own emotions? To break apart and cry and not feel better.
Of course I thought of him. I wanted so badly for him to help me feel better. But I didn’t want to burden him. I loved him too much to crush him with the weight of my warped emotions.
But I was so scared. Scared that I’d never like anyone other than him. I knew that there were millions of guys out there just waiting for me. But when I closed my eyes I only saw him. How I liked to look at his back view or to just touch him. I felt my stomach flip at the thought and I never felt so sick in such a long while. I loved someone who couldn’t love me back and I didn’t know how long this was going to last.
Perhaps that was the time I realized how truly lonely and ultimately empty I am.
How much I wanted to have a hand to hold, lips to kiss and a warm body to fall asleep next to. Someone to say good morning and goodnight to, to tell I miss and love, the list goes on.
That was the only thing I knew for sure then. But the only thing I could think of to remedy my situation couldn’t do anything for me. Once again so near yet so far. Another almost but not quite.
And through my final linear reasoning and conclusion, I finally found the source of my pain. And I hurt all over, right down to the anchor of my soul or whatever was beholding me to my mortal bounds.
What’s worst, is that this pain was familiar. Almost like a good friend you only see once in awhile.
And I remember this pain from the most horrific times of my life. From how lonely I felt as my parents screamed at each other in the wee hours of morning, my sisters out galvanting, to me screaming the ache in my chest out to the white walls of my room because it pained me to see my own distorted reflection.
It was the feeling of falling to the ground and hearing your own emptiness echo in your head. It was lying there and questioning if you could still find your soul if you searched hard enough. It was not trusting yourself to move from where you are because you were so sure your legs would shatter under your own weight.
In a situation where you felt so out of place in this world; even your own skin. An uncanny urge to remove yourself from it.
But above all, I must admit to my own miscalculation of which I had innocently and so simply hoped. Because in the end, I had chosen loneliness over love in fear of how much it’d hurt when everything eventually came crashing down. I knew this feeling so well, yet in my arrogance I burried it so deeply I forgot I had to account for it. And in my rush to forget, I had forgotten to remind myself of how bone crushing rejection had always felt.
To hope and be let down. To reach out and have my hand not be met, over and over again.