Harmonize

The Reason (One Shot)

Growing up, the thought of relationships terrified me. The commitment, the trust, the consideration of others needs before your own. Knowing that if you looked at someone the wrong way, it'd be taken as unfaithful. The constant feeling of being trapped in some sort of silent agreement that suffocates you until you lose yourself. The security of knowing each other's every whereabouts and giving permission to do so. Passing your heart on a silver platter despite if you'll receive it back untouched. Or at all. Then, grasping their broken heart and sewing the patches back with your own pain to fix theirs. Only to be left with nothing.

But that's just it, isn't it?

That's not what they paint it out to be.

It's supposed to be midnight drives, hidden glances and stolen kisses. Relationships are meant to be spending every waking moment with them, but having your heart ripped from your chest when they leave the room. When your down and the brush of their hand against your cheek only brings you up. Smiles that have the power to trigger theirs, even at their lowest point. When you accomplish your greatest achievement and all you desire is to share it with them. Because their opinion is the only one that matters. Because all you yearn for is their approval. Because your happiness depends on theirs.

That's what a relationship is meant to be.

I wanted that.

Everyone did.

But you can only withhold that hope for so long until you've been hurt so many times, that hope eventually transforms into dread. When you're used and abused to the point of rather dying alone than experiencing the agonizing pain of believing someone genuinely cares for you, only to find out they only wanted what you could offer. Not you.

So, you guard yourself. Build a brick wall to surround the shattered heart they ate up and spat right back in your face. They say you need to protect precious goods but why does it feel more like an object out of order? Something you need to warn others from because it doesn't work? Putting up a front becomes second nature as a defence mechanism. The mood swings, the attitude, the "you've changed." But it feels safe. You feel safe. Because you'd rather be called a bitch than have what keeps you feeling human stolen from you. You'd rather be angry at the world than wallow in your bed, devouring binge food that you'll regret later on and feel worse about.

When I finally got over the habit of thinking others only wanted what's in my pants, my open mind gave me the confidence to allow myself to become vulnerable around new people again. I thought they'd fall in love with my sensitive, empathetic, thoughtful, crazy crackhead self. I thought they'd like me.

And I did. I found someone.

By the force of nature, he was brought into my life without permission. We spent every day together. I remember our first night together as if it was yesterday. He was fast asleep but I was wide awake. I couldn't get over the fact that I was sleeping next to a boy for the first time. He became restless at one point and moved to rest his head on my shoulder. My body tensed and I tried my hardest to remain still so he wouldn't realise our proximity and turn around. It was the moment I could see myself liking the commitment. Feeling his body pressed against mine and the warmth it provided was strangely comforting. Although, waking up to him watching videos of beautiful women with a smirk playing on his lips wasn't how I imagined my first morning with him.

I couldn't be upset because we weren't together.

However, the weeks that followed was what obliterated any possibility of me falling in love again.

He was everywhere. From the moment I woke up to the minute I fell asleep. Calls that lasted for hours, text messages that would blow my phone up until I gained the urge to mute the notifications and days where I don't remember being at home for even an hour before I was in the car with him on an unknown adventure that he'd refuse to tell me. I would cop frequent side glances and hand touches that occurred way too regularly to be considered coincidental. A grin that would light up his face when I mentioned a stupid memory or cracked a joke that was way too lame to be funny. I learned to associate certain things back to a time with him. He had these little habits that most would find annoying but I just thought they were endearingly cute. He had this fire that sparked something inside me. A fire that I didn't know I was searching for. I told him about my biggest insecurities. My fear of being lead on and thrown away afterwards. He opened up about his darkest fears and past trauma. We would then reassure the other that everything would be alright. That time would heal us.