Petrichor

Dearest Ex-Lover.

[Listening to the attached song while reading this is totally recommended :3]

The best thing in the world? Finally waking up feeling satisfied and without that ache in the middle of the heart, or the constant nausea.

I'm not kidding. When you make yourself go to sleep in spite of having nightmares for the past month and wake up feeling like you're in hell, it's devastating. Lately, things have taken a turn for the better. That ache is gone, that feeling of impending doom like you're about to be crushed by some inevitable supernatural force and an irritating sense of paranoia which makes it hard for you to breathe – everything. If anything at all, I feel like some kind of fairytale-ish sunflower.

I'm glad my heart broke. I'm glad I fell in love with someone who couldn't be mine. Truth is, I hate this concept of sharing your life with someone. I mean, everyone has one life, and if you share it with someone else, and that someone else shares it with you, both of you are again left with one life each, which doesn't make sense. But it does make sense when you've shared more than half of your life with that someone and that someone isn't even ready to share an ounce of his with you. In that case, you're left with a lot less life, which happened to me. Thank you, really. I got back whatever life I had shared with you.

I saw you again with her, last night. Whatever those shitposts – "you can convince yourself you're okay till you see him with someone else" – might have tried to convey, they failed to reach me. Because I don't think I have ever tried to convince myself of the same. I know that I'm okay, and no force in the universe can make me feel sad because I saw my ex with the very girl I hate. I mean, technically speaking, that should like, nullify the effect. Both suck (No pun intended), and so, uh, double negative is positive, right? I'd have been sad if she was someone like, really good, someone with a pure heart and someone who really loved you. I'm fucking happy, LOL at your face, instagram posts.

I remember breaking down because I heard Hey There Delilah [please refer to 'The song on Loop' to know how much it meant to me] and felt really angry about myself. It's extremely stupid to associate songs with memories. Songs are so beautiful, and memories are nothing but painful, even if they're good. You're bound to remember how cold and lovely it was last Christmas while you're sweating like a pig in the middle of June this year and just get sad. Maybe that's why I got sad because I was a Delilah at a point of time. Oh my god, do you see how big an idiot I was? Thousands of Delilahs are being sung at and getting promised to by their Plain White T's that they're gonna make things right. Does it happen? No. Do the Delilahs get replaced? Yes. Do they get sad and feel like killing themselves because some puny human being promised to stay by their side and love them forever? Fuck no. We ain't got no time for that. For all I know they have some kind of a secret Broken Hearted Delilah club which teaches independent ex-Delilahs to buys thousands of cats/dogs and eat lots of ice creams and to learn to love again.

I was scared that I'd lose my head if I ever come across you, or your girlfriend, or anything associated to you, even cats. Do you know how surprised I was that I did not even cry when you left? Because everyone knows I've always been that cry-myself-to-sleep girl. Instead I remember getting my hold back on life and feeling joyous that, Hell yeah, I'm finally an independent heart broken cat-lady. Because being a heart broken cat-lady even when I was with you sucked balls. It was like, being an unrequited lover even when you're in a relationship with you. I don't think I have enough love left in me for you to qualify myself even as a lover, and therefore, I grinned as much as my baby-fat-filled cheeks would allow while you said you don't want to be with me anymore from the other side of the phone.