As the days passes by, my insecurities keeps growing and it grew stronger each time I gazed my reflections at my bedroom mirror. The smudges and dust dots doesn't seem to cover the emptiness I see within me for which the reason why I refuse to wipe it clean. If not, girl how imperfect you are.
My tired heart is beating so slow ever since he left me. It scratched away the broken heart, leaving it shattered inside of me, that effects how I see myself, even without the mirror or even when I passed over a window in the streets or after I work out at the gym I applied at Plaza Bukit Jelutong. How helpless I was to think I would fool myself by looked more dashing and sexy could ever drag him back. Pathetic.
Enough about him, even though he started all this. It's my fault anyways. What a cruel karma that hit me and forever will be hitting me until I find the other One. 3 years, still none. No one would ever sweep the shattered pieces of my heart and glue it all together again. Not would, but could. No one could. That's the right way to say. It isn't fair for the boys who had come and go for the pass three years, all willingly, but don't have the chance to. I just couldn't let them see the imperfections of mine that shows my true colours of nothing but black and white. "She's a black and white type of girl". That's what I label my self, or more precise, the "all or nothing" type, as described by Buzzfeed, through the video they had posted on Youtube. It hit me hard like my ex hit me with his words "we can never worked out. Never".
And so I thought, single life is a better life. I can worry less about whether my phone is fully charged or what my plans for the weekend. The beauty and joy I felt that had risen, impacted by the absence of love towards opposite sex, has now filled with the love I focus on my family. They fill the joy I once appointed to my boyfriends, and they rejoiced the comfort I longed for just like my dad used to carried me to bed when I was 9, as I slept on the living room couch with the TV played Supernatural Season 1, Episode 1. Best times of my life.
But still I miss the bitter sweet memories I used to make with men I love. It's so beautiful it makes all the perfection in this world come true. And so it is, just like I said, it shouldn't be. The imperfections I felt dragged me down in chains. "You can catch me, don't you run! Don't you run" I whisper to whom God has granted our marriage.
My best friend once told me he had always doubt the man I fond for. He said it won't last a week or month if the guy is exceptionally handsome, or has a face of a celebrity I admire. I've always hated him for the truth he acknowledge. But I hated more for the thing I had realized which I have in me that I haven't known before. My feelings changes constantly. Not months but weeks. Weeks for me to like one guy and completely not the next day within seconds, after realizing their imperfection. Somehow one simple mistake they'd make or one simple pet peeve they have can shut my lust towards them. Not just them, but also their identical reality, as I would say (the man I completely fall for eventhough I don't before just because they have similar style or face!) Call me cruel call me perfect wannabe! I care no less of their mistakes or pet peeves, I just don't want my heart to be stump or thrown ever again. I just can't.
And so I took the easiest and the most regret decisions I constantly made, I gave up.
So save your explanations of why it don't work between us. I'm here to say it all. It is me who walked away.
As the memories uncreated, the men rejected. I dance my own stage. Happily, creepily. As I made my own decisions and made my own path. I'd filled my head with knowledge and stress my heart with the failure I'll endure. I freaked out. No man can ever be alone, or you'll end up feeling lonely yet wise like Albert Einstein. But how could I fill my heart with all the imperfections presence inside of me? It won't go away.
Here I am, not knowing how to light the night, to help us grow. As the imperfections dragged me down in chains.
