Month: August 2009

1008; A Fluttering Leaf from my Journal

I don’t think about him, people expect me to but I don’t and I don’t find it weird that I don’t, not at all. I don’t miss him, or what we had, all that talk about your first love, well it’s not true, or maybe I’m just a freak.
I thought about him today, this evening, as I sat in there. I go there at least once a week and I don’t think about him. I don’t know why today was different. I thought about him today and it was because of them. I’ve seen them there before, the two of them, him; very cute and boyish, her; tall, slim, cute, sexy. I saw them again today and I thought about him.

I had to suppress a sudden violent urge to stand up and walk up to them, ask him to excuse us so I could talk to her. I wanted to tell her how that was me, that was my yesterday, she is me last year. I wanted to tell her. Tell her that it wouldn’t last, that they might be laughing now but very soon the fights would start, the fights that had no ending. I had to force myself not to go over.
I wanted to ask him for how long he thought they would last. I wanted to tell them not to give too much of their hearts to each other.

I thought about him, how that used to be us. Teasing, smiling, laughing, just sitting there. How that used to be us that’d walk into the eatery and joke with everyone there coz it was our hang out, but its no longer us. Nature abhors a vacuum. There is no vacuum. There is no us. They took our space. I don’t mind. For me I don’t. For the cute boy and the sexy girl, I do. I want to tell them about the frowns that’d soon crease their faces and how it would end with them not even being friends. I want to tell her to run before she gives him her all. I want to tell her to make sure tomorrow never comes. Because when the dawn breaks, she will be me today.

I don’t miss him. I miss some of the things we used to do. The silly meaningless calls a zillion times a day. I miss the silence. The one filled with laughter. The one where I could still hear the love; loud and clear. I don’t miss the silence that came at the end. The one filled with the fights and anger. No I don’t miss that silence. I don’t miss him. I don’t think about him. I don’t feel guilty that I’ve moved on, that there’s been someone else since almost immediately after him. No I don’t. I don’t feel guilty that less than 2 months ago he still told * he couldn’t believe I was gone. I don’t.

I want to tell her about how the paths they walk together today she will skip along tomorrow. Alone. I want to tell her to run and not look back. I want to tell her that love sucks. It sucks away all of your innocence. When tomorrow comes she will no longer be able to recognize love. I want to tell her about how I’m fighting so hard to accept love these days. How I can no longer hear love when its screaming. How my silence no longer rings with love. I want to tell her love always hurts. How she will give him her all and have it not work out. How she would leave and then he’d see what she’d been screaming in his face for years. I want to tell her love always hurts. I want to pull her away from him.

I don’t. I listen instead to the sound of their laughter, I watch her tickle him. I watch him hold her. I listen to the sound of their joy, I watch, I listen. I hope that for them, tomorrow delays, just a little bit longer. Because when tomorrow comes she will no longer remember what his smile looks like. He will no longer come here because it reminds him of her. She will come though. Alone. I don’t think about him. I don’t miss him.
I turn, allowing Coldplay’s ‘Fix you’ waft over me, letting it soothe wounds I thought had become scars. I bury my face in Biyi Bandele’s ‘The Street’, finding my laughter once more in Nehushta’s little trick…

p.s. forgive me if this does not read easily. it is straight from the folder journal (diary if you like)and this is the disjointed, repetitious way I write in it. I am jaded.